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ilBE no lAiS VHUHHED T* 




CAMP BRAVE PINE 


A CAMP FIRE GIRL STORY 


BY 


HARRIET T. COMSTOCK 

n 

AUTHOR OF “JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS,” “ JANET 
OF THE DUNES,” “a LITTLE DUSKY HERO,” 
“meg and the OTHERS,” ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


n 

) 

> 3 



NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 







■* • 
• 9 1 
% 


Copyright, 1913, 

By THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. 
Puhliahed September, 191S, 




©CI,a:J51554 


DEDICATED 


TO 

ALL THE DEAR CAMPFIRE GIRLS 
OF AMERICA 

WITH THE SmCEREST APPRECIATION AND BEST 
WISHES. AND TO THE GROUP OF GIRLS AT 
POUGHKEEPSIE. NEW YORK. I GRATE- 
FULLY ACKNOWLEDGE THE 
ASSISTANCE AND LOVING 
HELP THEY HAVE 
GIVEN 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I How It Came About 1 

II Camp Brave Pine . 25 

III The First Ceremonial 44 

IV Turn About Is Fair Play .... 58 

V Silas Junior 78 

VI An Adventure for Sylvia . . . .101 

VII The Knights Go Fishing 120 

VIII The Fish 147 

IX Alone with Sally 162 

X The Meller Drammer 191 

XI Uncle Silas* Story 214 

XII The Social Event of the Season . . 230 

XIII The Belated Light 260 

XIV An Inspiration 277 

XV The Town Club’s Dance 297 

XVI How It Turned Out 319 

XVII It Was Up to Nancy 344 

XVIII How They Landed Margaret . . . 362 

XIX The Patchwork Ghost 379 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ The light which has been given to me^” whis- 
pered Margaret, “ I desire to pass undimmed 
to others ” Frontispiece 

OPPOSITE PAGE 

‘‘ These be strawberry pies/’ admitted Mrs. Allen . 62 

“ Can I help you with the apron ” Sylvia offered . 116 
Swift-foot was dispatched to signal Mary Allen . . 164 * 

“ We can take in the seams, Mercy ” . . . . 220 

‘‘A letter from the Judge!” cried Jim .... 284 
** Let me carry the light you have entrusted to me ” 850*" 

“ To think you thought of me in this way ! What 

have I ever done to — win me this . . . 370 ^ 



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CAMP BRAVE PINE 


CHAPTER I 

HOW IT CAME ABOUT 

“I THINK,” said pretty Miss Rose Fay, 
“that we must be very democratic and set a 
good example. We must be broad and have 
the rich and the poor; the good and them who 
are not so good but who are going to be; the 
bright; the dull, and indeed any who need, 
whether they know it or not, just this sort of 
thing.” 

“Oh! yes,” exclaimed Margaret Lee, nod- 
ding her fine head emphatically, “but the trou- 
ble is that everything is so mixed. Now there 
is Sylvia Dean with all her money — she’s about 
the poorest girl I know ; and on the other hand 
Jane Trevor, with what you might say nothing, 
is one of the richest. Joy Deering is the most 
depressed girl I know for all her sunny 
name, and Nancy Mowbray the most friv- 
olous.” 


1 


a 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Miss Rose smiled delightedly. 

“I have an idea!” she cried; “we can have 
this a sort of masquerade camp; we can take 
people at their face value reversed and treat 
them accordingly. It will add to the fun.” 

Margaret thought for a moment and then 
saw the point. 

“That’s great!” she said, clapping her 
hands. “Fancy Sylvia posing as the poorest 
girl and Jane as the richest, Joy as the Harle- 
quin and Nancy as Miss Sober Sides! Why, 
it is deliriously comical. And pray, what can 
I be? I’ve never had time to think about my- 
self — how I impress others and the like. How 
do I seem to you, dear Miss Rose?” 

There was honest inquiry on the clear, fine 
face of the young girl; a waiting look as if for 
the first time in her busy life she had paused 
to take a glance in a mirror — a mirror that 
would faithfully reflect her inner self. Miss 
Rose smiled but did not speak, and Margaret 
shook her finger at her. 

“Now, we’ll put it another way,” she said; 
“just what character shall I assume in our 
plan?” 

“You are a sly boots!” Miss Rose cried and 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


3 


took Margaret by the shoulders and looked 
deep into the kind eyes; “I should suggest 
that you be extremely selfish,” she went on 
slowly, “thinking only of yourself, forgetting 
the ealls upon your sympathy and time. It 
would be a tremendously difficult role for you 
to play, my dear, and I’m sure we should al- 
ways be discovering you in your disguise; but 
I am speaking of opposites, you know.” 

Margaret’s face flushed sweetly. 

“It’s very strange,” she replied, “how our 
best friends never really know us. Only this 
morning I was thinking how selfish and self- 
centered I am growing. Now this plan of 
ours has pushed every other interest aside. I 
refused to read to my small sister last evening 
and actually suggested that she should do the 
family darning, and that is my particular job, 
as you know.” 

It was a lovely June day that Margaret 
Lee and Miss Rose Fay held this conversation 
in Miss Rose’s tiny bachelor apartments on 
a quiet side street on the west side of New 
York City. Miss Rose was a well-beloved 
kindergarten teacher on the east side of town, 
but this was Saturday and plans for a sum- 
mer vacation were being considered. 


4 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“It must be cheap — ” Miss Rose had said 
when the subject of vacation was thought of. 

“Neat’ — not gaudy,” Margaret Lee had re- 
turned. 

“Restful and exciting,” Miss Rose put in. 

“Necessary and superfluous!” added Mar- 
garet, and then they both laughed merrily. 

And so on this June Saturday morning the 
two had met and discussed ways and means. 
“There’s the old farmhouse in New Hamp- 
shire,” Miss Rose began after personalities 
had been disposed of; “I know it has a roof 
and a fireplace; I’m not sure of anything else. 
There are bits of furniture, too, but how much 
I cannot say.” 

“And what more could any one want?” 
asked Margaret. “Give me a roof to cover 
my head, a Are to cheer my soul and — the 
world is mine! Ours! Everybody’s!” 

“The house is a quarter of a mile from the 
liighway.” 

“All the better for exercise,” nodded Mar- 
garet. 

“It’s on a hill and there are tall elms near 
by!” 

“Heavenly!” 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


5 


“And a lonely pine, if I remember aright.” 

“Glorious !” 

“I can recall how the moon looks through 
the branches.” The little schoolmistress’s 
eyes grew misty. 

“You poor, tired dear,” comforted Mar- 
garet; “how soon can we get away?” 

“By July first, I am sure.” 

“Good! And now what other luxuries has 
the blessed spot?” 

“Well, there was an old outhouse. My 
grandfather used the lower room for a car- 
penter shop; there was a loft overhead and in 
that was stored all the discarded household 
furniture. I dare say there is some there yet 
which might be utilized.” 

“Oh! how fascinating;” Margaret’s prac- 
tical face was beaming; “making perfectly 
good things out of rubbish is my one shining 
talent.” 

“And right near the pine tree which stands 
in front of the house,” Miss Rose went 
on, “is a tiny rustic arbor overlooking the 
meadows and the village. There used to be 
seats running around three sides of it and a 
dear bumpetty table in the middle which 


6 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


could be utilized for picnicking if one did not 
object to humps.” 

“This is too much!” Margaret exclaimed, 
clapping her hands with delight. “I see us 
gathered there morning, noon, and night.” 

“And there is a well,” Miss Rose continued; 
“not a plain well, mind you, but a deep, dark 
place in whose depths, they say, you can see 
the stars at midday — providing the top is taken 
off the wellhouse. The water in that well has 
magic power. You forget weariness and heat. 
— you just grow to be your best self after 
drinking it a few days.” 

“What is this date?” Margaret asked, 
springing up and reaching for a calendar. 
“June 11th, and we must wait until July 1st. 
How can we. Miss Rose? But — ” the girl 
paused and gave a comical grimace; “how 
about grub? I hate to mention it, but you 
know how hungry girls will get in the coun- 
try.” 

“Vegetables can be had in plenty near at 
hand. Milk, too — real milk, I mean, and 
cream that stands alone, and eggs that the 
hens deliver at your door themselves, to prove 
the freshness.” 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


7 


“Of the hens?” Margaret suggested with 
her merry laugh — “they are evidently poor 
business hens.” 

“Well, they’re reliable and philanthropic,” 
said Miss Rose. “Meat — we cannot rely 
upon.” 

“Who cares for meat in Paradise?” Mar- 
garet tossed her head. “And now about furni- 
ture?” 

“That’s the rub;” Miss Rose looked thought- 
ful. “I know there are some odds and ends, 
hut what they are I do not know. There 
are no beds, I am sure, but of one thing I am 
confident, there are plenty of boxes and pieces 
of wood to make tables and dressing stands, 
and the rest, with old trees and bushes, will 
supply us with fuel.” 

“Great! And now I have a plan. May I 
use your telephone?” Miss Rose nodded. 
“We’ll begin on Sylvia.” A moment later 
from the inner room Miss Rose heard varied 
hut one-sided conversations. 

“Riverside 6329-L calling. Is that you 
Sylvia? What are you doing? Just getting 
up! You drone. It’s half-past ten a. m. 
Well, you shouldn’t stay up so late. Senior 


8 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Prom, or no Senior Prom. What are your 
plans for the summer? Europe or the Cana- 
dian Rockies? Well, child, you’re going to 
do neither. They would bore you to death. 
You’ve done them several times before, and 
you so young! I must hurry. Get up and 
come down to Miss Rose’s in a half-hour! 
Look sharp. You’re going to New Hamp- 
shire for the summer. Camp, poverty, and 
fun. Good-by.” 

The receiver was hung up. Another click! 

“Chelsea 3920 W. L. calhng. 

“That you, Jane? Every one is in, 
this morning. It’s great luck. Day off? 
That’s splendid. What are you doing? 
Making over a skirt? Bring it down to Miss 
Rose’s. Be here at eleven. We’ll all pitch 
in and help and incidentally tell you where 
you’re going to spend your month’s vacation. 
In town? Not a hit of it. You’re going to a 
better place. Hustle, girlie, and bring the 
skirt along.” 

Another click. 

“Oh! That’s you, Joy. What’s hap- 
pened? Nothing? Well, come to Miss 
Rose’s. Something is happening here. Be 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


9 


here at eleven, sharp. We want you to cheer 
us up. By-hy!” 

Click! 

“Yes. Nancy is in! Oh! that giggle! 
N othing specially funny ? Only things in gen- 
eral? Well, come as soon as you can to Miss 
Rose’s. You’ll certainly have a pain in your 
side when you hear what we have to tell you. 
Come right along. Wear your calmest cos- 
tume or you’ll overdo the situation. You’ll 
have to hurry!” 

A final click and Margaret emerged from 
the inner room flushed and laughing. 

“I put the nickels in the box. Miss Rose,” 
she said; “just suppose we lived in the days of 
stage-coaches! It would have taken a week 
to get them here. We may have lost some 
of our polish, but we certainly have gained 
speed.” 

Miss Rose was putting her small sitting- 
room in order and dusting where no dust was. 
The soft air floated into the broad window and 
bore on its breath the scent of roses and lovely 
early summer flowers, for the wind was from 
the west and a rich man’s garden two blocks 
away was doing its sunniest best to share with 
the world its wealth of fragrance. 


10 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“That garden,” said Miss Rose, sniffing, 
“has kept me in this flat. If the landlord 
realized it, he’d put up the rent. There! 
Meg, dear, we are ready for the meeting. 
I declare! Isn’t that an automobile?” She 
ran to the window. “It is. It’s Sylvia !” 
And presently Sylvia entered the room, pant- 
ing a bit from the unusual eff ort of coming up 
two flights of stairs on her own feet. She 
was a very pretty girl, beautifully gowned and 
with an expression in her young eyes of bore- 
dom and weariness. She sank into the easiest 
chair in the room and threw a kiss to Miss 
Rose and Margaret. 

“I haven’t taken a good breath since you 
haled me out of bed, Meg,” she panted. 
“You’re the first one who has made me curious 
in years and years! Every one else says and 
does exactly what you know they will do. 
Isn’t Meg inspiring. Miss Rose?” 

“Yes, she is.” Miss Rose smiled at Mar- 
garet. 

“If any one had to lose her money and 
come up against trials,” Sylvia rattled on, now 
that she had recovered her breath, “it ought to 
be Meg; she does it so artistically. You must 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


11 


come abroad with me this summer, honey. It 
just popped into my head when you tele- 
phoned. To go without some incentive 
would be absolutely dreary, but to see you bub- 
ble through Europe would be a revelation. 
Will you come, Meg? Grandfather will — not 
matronize us, but patronize us! He said he’d 
give me what I wanted this summer for a 
birthday gift. WiU you come?” 

“Sylvia^ you embarrass me! I cannot ac- 
cept your offer — ” Margaret knew it was 
given in the airiest way and had no deeper 
foundation than the girl’s lazy good nature; 
“but we must spend the summer together.” 

“I thought that was a joke.” Sylvia threw 
aside her white automobile coat and loosened 
her pretty little bonnet. She did not take it 
off, for she knew too weU how becoming it was. 
Her dainty pink and white face was sur- 
rounded with fluffy golden curls; her baby 
eyes were blue and inquiring — she looked like 
a doll and posed continually. 

“It’s no joke,” said Margaret, seating her- 
self beside Miss Rose in the window seat; 
“wait until the others come! There are just 
enough chairs, and the footstool for an over- 


12 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


flow. There’s some one coming up the stairs 
like a house afire. Of course it’s — Nancy!” 

And into the room burst a large, handsome 
girl, her brown eyes dancing, the dimples 
breaking the red of her cheeks like cunning 
* nooks, and her even, strong white teeth show- 
ing. 

“Good morning, everybody!” she cried, 
flinging herself into a chair and taking off* her 
red geranium hat to fan herself with. “Whew ! 
But it’s hot in the sun. I just plunged down 
here! I’m dying with curiosity. Dear Miss 
Rose, how sweet and cool you look ; and Sylvia 
— you’re stunning!” 

“Any remarks about me. Nan?” Margaret 
raised her eyebrows. “Any compliment com- 
ing this way?” 

“Oh! You’re Meg. What’s the use of 
throwing away words on you? Isn’t she a 
dear, Sylvia?” 

“She certainly is.” Sylvia’s flow of spirits 
was checked by Nancy’s more strenuous one, 
and Sylvia always resented taking a side place. 

“First in the schoolroom, first in her home, 
first in the hearts of her countrywomen!” 
Nancy tossed her giddy hat on the table and 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


13 


smoothed out her white flannel skirt. “Who 
else is coming?” 

“By the step upon the stair, by the sigh 
upon the air,” Margaret rose from her seat, 
“I think our Joy is upon us!” And sure 
enough Joy Deering came languidly into the 
room. The door was ajar and she slipped 
through the opening like a little shadow. She 
was a mouse of a girl, slight, fair, and gray- 
eyed. She wore a suit of gray rajah silk, a 
gray chip hat with gray feathers, and her slim 
hands and arms were encased in gray suede 
gloves. Upon the pale girlish face an ex- 
pression almost peevish rested continually. 
The delicate mouth was drooping, the flne nose 
a trifle sharp, and her voice, when she talked, 
was pathetically appealing. With everything 
in the world to make her happy, — “even her 
name,” as Nancy once said, Joy Deering was 
a depressing little creature. 

“There’s a real chill in the air,” she said in 
her drawling voice. “I’ll move this chair out 
of the draught, dear Miss Rose, if you do not 
mind. It’s so miserable to have it cold in the 
shade and hot in the sun. How-do, girls!” 
Joy said this in the saddest kind of a voice. 


14 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Gracious!” Nancy broke in, fairly crowd- 
ing out of the window the impression J oy was 
making, “you need exercise, child, and scraped 
beef and hot milk every ten minutes. You 
look — ” she flung her handsome head back 
and laughed. “You look anaemic! I tell you, 
girls, I’m studying types. Extreme youth 
keeps me from literature, but in another year 
I enter the fray. I’m not saying much, but 
I expect to do big things if only I can keep out 
of college and preserve my style!” Nancy 
made a comical face that set everybody to 
laughing. 

“You’re a terribly abused person,” said Miss 
Rose, shaking her finger at Nancy. “Think 
of struggling to keep out of college!” 

“And here comes gentle Jane!” Margaret 
cried, but the laugh had gone from her voice. 
How she longed for what Nancy was strug- 
gling against! 

“Last but not least!” Miss Rose went for- 
ward to greet the newcomer and take the 
bundle from her hands. “Dear little Jane!” 
And perhaps that described her best of all. 
She was “my dear” to every older person that 
knew her; even the stern Judge Conly, whose 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


15 


stenographer she was, had difficulty in re- 
straining his grandfatherly instincts toward 
her. He always wanted to give her twenty- 
five dollars a week instead of fifteen, and he 
was always insisting upon holidays. She was 
a “dear” and “dearie” to every girl friend she 
had, and a “peach” and “chum” to her boy 
friends; and every one acquainted with the 
American language of youth knows all those 
terms are synonymous. 

“Howdy!” nodded Jane sweetly to the little 
group; “how nice you all look, and what a 
day! Just perfect. Give me my work, Meg, 
dear. I had to come, but I must finish my 
pique skirt for to-morrow. I bought a love 
of a waist at Thorn’s for $1.98 — quite a bar- 
gain, and a duck of a hat for $1.50. This 
skirt, when finished, will have cost me $1.35, 
and to-morrow Tod Nilson is going to take me 
to see those new pictures up at the Met. His 
mother is going to meet us there and take us 
for tea to a dream of a place in the suburbs.” 

J ane settled herself on the footstool and at- 
tacked her work at once. Sylvia Dean looked 
at her with a frown on her face. Jane upset 
all Sylvia’s calculations. Jane got without 


16 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


any eiFort, whatever should by rights, she ar- 
gued, belong to her. Now this very Tod Nil- 
son! She had danced with him twice the even- 
ing before, and he talked of nothing but — 
J ane Trevor I And what was J ane, to be sure ? 
Just a quiet, happy girl doing her life work 
without a grumble. A girl with a plain little 
face but wonderful brown eyes and a mass of 
reddish gold hair. A girl who never men- 
tioned that her father had once been rich, but 
who applied herself, since leaving school, to 
helping her widowed mother keep the modest 
apartment up town and an interest in life 
which held only hard work and — little Jane! 

“And now,” said Miss Rose, tapping on the 
window seat, “I call this meeting to order and 
appoint Margaret chairman.” 

“Hear! Hear!” cried Nancy, waving her 
hand. “Get busy, Meg, and take us into your 
confidence.” Margaret took her stand by 
Miss Rose and said: 

“Well, then — ^it’s about our vacations. We 
must spend them together! We need each 
other. Do you remember that week, girls, 
during the last year of school, when Sylvia’s 
grandmother had us all at her farm? Wasn’t 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


17 


it splendid? And what fun we had. There 
have been changes in the last year or two,” 
the young faces clouded. “There isn’t any 
grandmother for Sylvia, and the beautiful 
farm is sold. There isn’t as much money for 
me and there’s more work for Jane, but we all 
want a vacation and we want it together if we 
can, don’t we now?” 

The others had not thought of it before, but 
as Margaret spoke the idea loomed forth as a 
thing that must materialize. 

“We do!” they cried, to a girl. 

“Well, then, hear our plan. Miss Rose will 
go with us^ — for us to take care of!” Jane 
Trevor snipped her thread and glanced up. 
“She has a bit of a farm in New Hampshire,” 
Meg ran on, “a house on a hill — a shed full of 
shavings and sweet smells and — an arbor, girls ! 
An arbor overlooking wide fields full of — of 
things and flowers!” 

“Oh!” came in several keys. 

“That’s where we are going on the first of 
July! Each girl must take her bed and bed- 
ding!” 

“Good lands!” Nancy broke in. “It 
sounds as if we were lepers.” 


18 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Margaret frowned at her. “Yes, we’ve got 
to take our beds, cots, hammocks what you will 
— after that the rest is easy. And, girls we 
are going to be — I’ve saved this for the last — 
Camp Fire Girls! We’re going to have a 
model camp; be an inspiration to all other 
campers and an honor to ourselves. Miss 
Rose has qualified for Guardian — who follows 
on?” 

Sylvia leaned forward in her chair, Jane 
dropped her needle, and Joy and Nancy 
simply stared. 

“I — I — thought,” gasped Sylvia at length, 
“that this — this movement was sort of a — a 
rowdy thing. I do not know much about it, 
but I formed that opinion.” 

“Quite a wrong one!” Miss Rose spoke up. 
“It is a splendid movement and our camp is 
going to help prove it. I want you all to help 
me. 

“I’m afraid mother — ” began Joy Deering. 

“Oh, I’ve seen your mother,” Miss Rose 
broke in, “and your grandfather, Sylvia, and 
Jane’s employer, and Nancy’s parents. They 
are all enthusiastic. It is up to you, girls.” 

There was a pause — a moment of deep 
thought. 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


19 


“Don’t you have to wear queer clothes?” 
asked Sylvia. 

“The duckiest kind of duck!” Jane fairly 
exploded now that the truth had reached her 
consciousness. “All free and easy and sen- 
sible. Besides, they’re not glued to you. You 
can take them off and be frivolous if you want 
to, Sylvia.” 

“Oh! I feel my legs twitching to be free 
already,” cried Nancy. “Just fancy! I’ve 
seen the suits; they are perfectly fascinating, 
and we’ll give our common sense a chance io^ 
grow. I call this plan — supreme !” 

A ripple of excitement was growing. 

“I wouldn’t mind trying it,” Joy Deering 
said in her faint voice. “I’m dying to he with 
you all. That part would be so jolly, and 
goodness knows I need cheering — but that 
khaki color is so fearfully trying and if any 
one should see us — and besides, I’m afraid at ► 
night, in the country with only — women and 
girls.” 

“I mean to have a man on the place,” Miss 
Rose explained. “Uncle Silas, he’s called. 

I knew him when I was a girl. A great, strong 
fellow he is. A handy man and a perfect pro- 


20 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


tector. He’s better than the whole police force 
put together.” 

“I think,” unconsciously Sylvia was begging 
for favor in this new scheme that she could see 
was taking ground, “I think grandfather 
would let us have one of his autos.” 

“My dear child,” Miss Rose exclaimed; “it 
couldn’t be got within half a mile of the house. 
The roads are abominable. We’ll have to de- 
pend on Shank’s mare and a chance horse be- 
longing to the neighbors. But there is some- 
thing else. Perhaps you cannot all belong to 
the camp; there are certain qualifications, but 
if any one fails there is time to make good the 
deficiency.” 

With that. Miss Rose drew from her pocket 
a printed circular. 

“Here are some requirements,” she said, and 
read along rapidly: “you must know how to 
mend stockings, hem a dish towel, keep 
accounts, tie a square knot five times in succes- 
sion, sleep with windows open, or out-of-doors, 
exercise at least half an hour every day, be able 
to keep from eating candy or drinking soda 
between meals, to know the very first aids to 
people who have been burned, nearly drowned. 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 


21 


etc., etc., and oh! several things more, such as 
to know certain things: about a girl’s own self ; 
commit to memory a song or poem; know all 
about some woman who has done something 
for her country; know and he able to sing ‘My 
country, ’tis of Thee.’ ” Miss Rose looked up 
and there was a twinkle in her kind eyes. 
Every young face was turned toward her with 
enthusiasm and excitement; every face but 
Sylvia’s, and hers was almost tragic. 

“I — I cannot belong,” she whispered for- 
lornly. Now that she seemed an outcast she 
longed to do that for which she was unfitted. 
“I cannot do one of those things, I’m afraid.” 
Never before had Sylvia, rich and petted, felt 
at a disadvantage. Among the many require- 
ments for membership in this strange and allur- 
, ing society she groped for one that she could 
proclaim herself proficient in, and at last she 
said weakly, “unless it is — sleeping with my 
windows open.” 

At this a general laugh rang out. 

“Dear me !” It was Jane’s pensive voice ; “I 
seem to have graduated in them all before I 
enter. I might fall down on a song or poem; 
but no ! not even there am I lacking, for I can 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


22 

sing any number of college songs, and Thack- 
eray’s Little Billee I know from start to finish. 
Oh! woe is me for my abundant knowledge.” 

Nothing could have been funnier than Jane’s 
attempts at high tragedy. She was such a 
sweet, comfortable little body that her flights 
at times were most amusing. Again the laugh 
rang out from the merry company. 

“Surely you can darn a stocking, Sylvy?” 
Margaret asked soothingly. 

“Or you know what a girl of your age ought 
to know about herself,” urged Joy, vaguely. 
They were all trying to brace her up. It was 
humiliating, but touching. 

“You can refrain from candy and sodas be- 
tween meals,” Nancy put in, “providing you 
have plenty with meals, eh, Sylvia?” 

Again the laugh bubbled forth. Did they 
not know, to a girl, the ever-ready box of 
Huyler’s on Sylvia’s table and her fondness 
for sodas? 

“Well, of course,” said Miss Rose at last 
quite seriously, “every one of you is eligible 
for wood gatherer, or can be, and now who will 
help me with my last heart’s desire? Who of 
you will acknowledge me as Guardian and — 
be my girls?” 


HOW IT CAME ABOUT 23 

This time the ‘T ! I ! I !” was spontaneous 
and joyful. 

“Then for details and preparation. Until 
we start for our camp I want you to meet here 
once a week. Sunday evening is a good time, 
and soon all obstacles will be overcome and our 
summer of summers planned.” 

Then they had some iced lemonade, and at 
one o’clock Sylvia’s automobile was filled with 
the happy, laughing little band. 

“I declare, it’s the j oiliest ever!” cried 
Nancy, waving to Miss Rose in the window as 
they rolled away. 

“It seems like an ancient adventure!” said 
Jane hugging her finished skirt to her bosom. 

“I do hope nothing will happen to us,” 
sighed Joy. 

“It surely will!” Margaret replied, settling 
herself on the least desirable seat in the car. 
“Something always happens where Nancy is. 
My mother says if one really wants a breath- 
taking, delirious experience, just go shopping 
with Nan.” 

“I’m quite quivery over it aU;” Sylvia’s 
bored look had disappeared; “but I mean to 
take some nice togs along in case of an emer- 


24 . 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


gency. You never can tell what might hap- 
pen, and I’ve never been to a place on earth 
where, sooner or later, you did not need an 
evening gown.” 

“I have such a dream of a gown,” Joy put in 
pathetically; “it looks quite like vapor with 
rose-buds breaking through.” 

Just then a particularly uneven spot in the 
street bumped them all together. 


CHAPTER II 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 

“Now, folks, just tumble in and find the 
softest spots you can. I hadn’t anything big 
enough to carry you but this old cart. The 
straw’s clean and the roads are tolerable; be- 
sides, the sooner you learn the worst — the 
better !” 

Silas Thomas looked at the little group, his 
shrewd Yankee eyes beaming humorously. 
Then he grasped Miss Rose’s hand. 

“Land! Miss Fay,” he exclaimed, “you cer- 
tainly do favor your great-aunt Patsy Fay. 
You don’t look a bit older than you did ten 
years ago. Be these here your kildergarten 
what I’ve heard so much of?” 

The group of girls, who were in the act of 
“tumbling in,” paused to laugh. 

“We’re worse than that,” Nancy Mowhray 
replied, pulling Joy Deering up into the cart 
over the wheel ; “Miss Rose has brought us up 
here to reform us.” 


25 


26 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“What offense?” questioned Silas. 

“Repressed individuality. We’re going to 
expand up here and give our personalities time 
to grow.” 

“Waal! waal!” Silas ejaculated, mounting 
to the board seat in front and offering his 
hand to Miss Rose in order to pull her up, 
“You set up here with me. Miss Fay; we’ll give 
the natives a good impression of the party.” 
A derisive but appreciative jeer met this, and 
then the merry load started on its way. 

“The trunks and gimcracks came up on the 
morning train,” Silas explained as they rattled 
on. “I hauled them up this noon, so you’ll 
find things sorter comfortable when you land. 
Beds enough for a hospital; cook stove and 
barrels of truck labeled ‘Handle with care.’ 
Land’s sake, as if they could be handled any 
other way ! The heft of them barrels is some- 
thing to calculate about. Me and the station 
agent bust all the buttons off our waistcoats, 
tugging them barrels to the cart.” 

Another merry laugh! “They laugh con- 
siderable easy,” Silas whispered to Miss Rose, 
“and I’ve noticed that a laugh like that comes 
from two causes; either they have to laugh 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


9n 


that’er-way, or they feel called upon to do it.” 

And just then a quiet fell upon the travelers. 
The beautiful road ran along the brookside 
for a mile or two; the village, with its queer 
little houses and shops, was passed and then 
came a hilly, rough turn and the going was 
not so easy. 

“I’m like Pat with his one feather,” whis- 
pered Margaret; “if a little straw is so hard, 
deliver me from a straw bed !” 

Nancy giggled. “I never knew,” she said, 
wincing, “how perfectly constructed the human 
body is to meet every bump halfway.” 

“Ouch!” cried Jane, “my hair’s falling 
down.” 

And again a silence fell. 

The late afternoon sun shone through the 
elm trees by the roadside ; the breeze became 
cooler and cooler, and the quiet grew more in- 
tense. Suddenly Sylvia Dean spoke from out 
the silence : 

“Miss Rose, did you think to arrange about 
a man sleeping somewhere on the place? A 
big, strong, capable man?” 

Silas’ shoulders rose and fell in appreciation 
of this. 


28 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“How would I do?” he asked, turning his 
honest, humorous face to the girls; “I ain’t any 
too young or handsome, but I’m strong as an 
ox and there ain’t any walking scarecrow but 
what would consider two or three times before 
running up against a good pliable horse-whip 
held in these here capable hands of mine. 
Don’t you fret, young ladies, I’ve fitted up a 
bunk in the lean-to back of the house and there 
couldn’t come a step up the hill without rous- 
ing me from deepest slumber.” 

“What a comforting man !” sighed Sylvia. 

“He’s a real character,” whispered Jane, and 
Silas caught the word. 

“Now, how did you know that?” he said, 
turning again to the girls, his face flushing shy- 
ly. “A character I be and no mistake! 
There was a writing lady down to the Corners 
last season, and she writ a remarkable book, 
and what do you think? She done me up real 
spick and span. I’m a character right enough. 
‘Off the Highroad’ she called her work of art. 
I never could see the p’int of the title, but I 
don’t know as titles count much; it’s characters 
as sells books, and I shouldn’t wonder if she 
sold as many as a hundred of hers — I know 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


29 


we bought six right in this town. My char- 
acter was ‘The Guardian Angel’ and she sort 
of run me loose from cover to cover. I came 
in handy to fill up between happenings. I 
couldn’t exactly see that I amounted to much 
in the tale, hut them as fill gaps do something!” 

“Indeed, yes!” broke in Miss Rose, “and 
we’ll all read the book.” 

“I wish she’d left my deformities off,” Silas 
went on; his fame in literature was evidently 
the greatest joy and glory of his life. “You 
can’t always control warts and high cheekbones 
in life, hut I’ve always held that in book writ- 
ing you might just as well improve upon na- 
ture. But lands ! In ‘Off the Highroad’ not 
a wart or raw bone was omitted. If I hadn’t 
liked the writer so much, I’d have sued her for 
defamation of character.” 

The girls could stand no more. First Joy 
Deering emitted a hysterical laugh, and a gen- 
eral scream of laughter followed. 

Silas turned to them and winked understand- 
ingly, and from that time on they were the 
best of friends. 

“There’s the house !” Miss Rose stood up and 
waved her hand as if in greeting. 


30 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Where? Oh, where?” Then a long “Oh!” 
was wafted on the breeze. There it stood 
upon its hilltop ; the little gray-shingled house. 
The roof was mossy and sloping; a pretty 
porch ran across the front door; and the tiny- 
paned windows were flashing like jewels as the 
late sun touched them. There was the well, 
too, and the tool house ; the little arbor and the 
beautiful pine tree standing guard in front. 
To the girls, who had been studying the Camp 
Fire essentials, the brave tree was a welcome 
and a symbol. 

“The pine! the pine!” they cried together. 

“It has grown for us; it is our own dear 
sign,” Miss Rose’s voice rang out clearly; “this 
shall be our Camp Brave Pine.” 

“Splendid!” shouted two or three together. 

“Come, Mary Jane!” Silas slapped the old 
horse with the reins ; “the sooner you reach the 
top the sooner you can turn around and come 
down again. Git along, Mary Jane!” 

In a few minutes the house was reached and 
the jolly load were upon their feet. A rush 
was made for inside, and delighted cries rang 
forth as the girls explored. 

“Oh ! such a love of a hall — and see the furni- 
ture! Why, Miss Rose, it is luxurious.” 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


31 


Nancy pounced upon a rocker and swayed 
back and forth. “Tidies on the chairs, too. I 
do declare! If Uncle Silas did this I do not 
wonder the writer-lady let him ooze from cover 
to cover of her book. Think of a man with 
such a sense of beauty.” 

“Oh! come into the dining room, girls!” It 
was Joy Deering calKng. “Blue china! and 
real pewter tea things — it’s great.” 

“And the closets!” Jane Trevor’s voice 
came forth muffled. “My! but they smell 
delicious. Clean is no name for them; they 
are immaculate.” 

“And oh!” It was Miss Rose from the liv- 
ing room; “a real, true fire in the fireplace 
here! It has just started to blaze up. It was 
waiting to say howdy. How could this have 
happened just so?” 

But no one waited for an answer. A general 
rush for the open fireplace, and glad cries of 
delight filled the house. 

“So artistic!” bubbled Sylvia, kneeling be- 
fore the blaze; “the andirons are real antiques, 
and the logs are the smelly kind that you can- 
not buy for love or money at home.” 

“Did you ever try love, Sylvy, dear?” asked 


82 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Jane, nestling close to Miss Rose and spread- 
ing out her slim little hands. 

“Personal allusions are odious!” sniffed 
Sylvia, tossing her head. 

“And now for upstairs!” ordered Miss Rose, 
“and then preparations for supper. Uncle 
Silas says we’U find enough in the house to be- 
gin on.” 

The merry party got wedged on the stairs, 
for every one tried to be first and the stairs 
were narrow. After much struggling and 
joking the top was reached, and Miss Rose and 
Margaret led the others. 

There was a square hall from which opened 
five rooms, — four small one, one large one. 
More exclamations of delight rang through the 
house as the girls discovered what had been 
done for their comfort. The cots and mat- 
tresses had been unpacked and set in place; 
the beds were actually made ! Sheets, pillow- 
cases, and blankets had been taken from a box 
labeled “bed linen,” but over each bed lay an 
old-fashioned patchwork quilt that none of the 
party had ever seen before ! 

“Some wizard’s work!” said Miss Rose, her 
eyes shining, but a bit misty. 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


33 


“Some enchanting fairy has been here!” 
added Joy Deering, in her plaintive tones. 

“Oh! oh!” Margaret Lee called from the 
largest room, “this is a western room ; just come 
and see the glory pouring in!” 

They all ran to the front of the house and 
then stood still. The big, square room was all 
aglow. The two narrow beds with their gaudy 
quilts, the barrel washstand, the kitchen-table- 
dressing-stand, and the two old, comfortable 
rockers were all transformed by the golden 
light that flooded the place. A quiet fell upon 
the group, and then Jane Trevor broke forth 
in a song. Jane had a sweet, thrilling voice, 
and the song she sang was an old, old lullaby 
with a tender lilt in it like a prayer. 

They were all very quiet for a moment, after 
the tune died gently away, and then it was 
practical Margaret who spoke. 

“We must cast lots to see about rooms for 
who’s who and which. First, who’ll share this 
large room with Miss Rose? Miss Rose is 
naturally reluctant to have this luxury thrust 
upon her, but she insists upon having one of us 
girls with her.” Slips of paper were provided, 
and it fell to Margaret’s lot to share the room. 


34 . 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


She flushed prettily, and Nancy Mowbray ex- 
claimed : 

“Well, some mighty understanding fairy has 
taken us in his care. Now come, girls! see 
how he’ll treat us as to the other rooms.” 

Sylvia got the littlest room in the rear. She 
gave a shrug, but accepted her fortune with 
true grace. Jane got the second best, and 
Nancy and Joy the two others. 

“Oh, me!” called Nancy from' her comer, 
“my window opens on an apple tree with small, 
green balls all over it, and bird-nests in every 
nook!” 

“And mine,” cried Joy, “opens to the east. 
I’m going to get some dark muslin to hang 
over it, or I’ll be awake at sunrise.” 

“And quite proper, too!” Nancy flung back. 
“It’s Joy for our rising-bell, girls. I can hear 
her cheerful voice now, trilling to the dawn 
and urging us from our slothful cots.” 

Even Joy joined in the laugh that this called 
forth, for she was an indolent girl and none 
knew that better than she. 

“Oh!” burst in Jane Trevor, “my window 
looks right into the heart of the woods back of 
the house. There’s a path leading in and into 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


35 


the deepest shade and my window is facing 
that. I shall follow the path to-morrow 
and — ” she gave another little sing-y trill — 
“and find my heart’s desire.” 

Trunks were then attacked, and for a time 
a muffled confusion reigned. Each girl was 
trying to find place and space for her belong- 
ings. Hooks behind doors provided for the 
few serviceable gowns and coats, trunk trays 
had to answer for bureau drawers, but willing 
hands and happy hearts made the best of 
things. Sylvia and Joy Deering were the 
worst sufferers, and realized that in readjust- 
ment they had much to learn. They were 
ashamed to acknowledge how cramped and 
awkward they felt, while Jane’s merry song 
and Nancy’s sharp witticisms broke forth every 
now and then. 

“Put on uniforms!” came the order from 
Miss Rose, and this caused a new ripple of 
excitement. 

“Do you know,” Nancy’s clear tones rang 
out, “these patchwork quilts have got on to 
my imagination. I shouldn’t wonder if every 
nice comfy ghost who once wore dresses like 
these patches, walked — no, stalked, around 


36 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


here nights to see what’s going on. I’ve al- 
ways wanted to be part of a haunted story and 
I believe my time has come. Oo-oh !” 

“Good heavens!” cried Sylvia from her 
cranny; “that is a cheerful idea. For unadul- 
terated creepiness, Nan, you take the prize. 
Now as for me,” she laughed nervously, “I’m 
trying to fancy how that man felt in the old 
tale who was put in a room and the walls and 
ceiling and floor gradually drew together, 
squeezing him to death! If I sit on the bed 
and stretch out my hand, putting on a sleeve, 
I nearly reach across the hall.” 

Joy Deering came out of her room. “I de- 
clare,” she said loftily, “we are getting cheer- 
ful. Uncle Silas downstairs may keep humans 
off the premises, but I’d like to know who’s 
going to protect us up here from such creatures 
as Sylvia and Nancy. My!” she sniffed dain- 
tily, “I’m so bewitched that for a moment I 
actually thought I smelled food.” 

“Food!” Every one burst into the hall. 
Even Miss Rose, in full regalia, rushed from 
her room, followed by Margaret fastening her 
band around her head. “Food! Food!” 

In amaze they looked into each other’s faces 
and murmured: 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


87 


“Hot biscuits !” 

“Ham and eggs!” 

“Ginger bread!” 

“Cocoa!” 

“Dreams of our starved stomachs !” groaned 
Nancy. 

“Visions of our fevered brains!” 

They all looked so tragic and funny in their 
Indian suits, their young faces blank and won- 
dering, that Miss Rose sat down upon the only 
chair the hall boasted, and broke into uncon- 
trollable laughter. Then, springing up, she 
exclaimed : 

“What sillies we are! Let us use our com- 
mon sense and — see for ourselves.” 

In Indian file they followed Miss Rose down 
the narrow stairs. As they descended, the 
odors of delectable food became stronger and 
stronger. 

“Starvation hath made us mad!” whispered 
Nancy. 

“It’s taken the same form in us all,” re- 
turned Jane, patting her palpitating heart 
tragically. 

“Quiet!” commanded Miss Rose, and so they 
passed through the living room, where the 


38 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


brisk fire was lighting the dark eorners, for 
the twilight was falling; and so to the dining- 
room door. There a sight met their eyes that 
caused them all to stand still. The table was 
laid with snowy cloth, and the old blue china 
and pewter. A bowl of exquisite pansies 
stood in the middle of the table, and the low 
hanging lamp was lighted. In silence they 
all took in the pretty, homy scene, and just 
then the kitchen door opened and two young 
girls, one bearing a plate of biscuits, the other 
a platter of ham and eggs, entered. 

“Land of Goshen!” ejaculated one, gazing 
in real terror at the group in the doorway. 

“Suz sakes!” screamed the other, falling 
hack. 

“Heavens!” cried Nancy, rushing forward, 
“whatever you are, no matter what is the mat- 
ter, don’t you drop that food!” 

This brought every one to her senses. 

“You look just — terrible queer!” the girl 
who carried the platter explained. “We 
wasn’t expecting — this!” 

“I suppose not,” and now it was Miss Rose 
who took command of the situation; “nor did 
we expect to find this !” She waved her hands 


CAMP BRAVEI PINE 


39 


toward the table and the girls themselves. 
“What a homecoming you have made it. And 
now, my dears, who are you, and tell me all 
about it.” The steaming dishes were on the 
table in a jilfy; others were brought in from 
the kitchen, and explanations were wedged in 
between trips to and fro. 

“I’m Mary Allen,” said she of the biscuit 
plate. “Ma said as how you would remember 
me. Miss Fay, if I called to your mind the 
time you took me by the heels and shook the 
cent out of me what I had swallowed.” 

“Oh! dear, dear;” Miss Rose’s eyes were 
dancing. “Can this be little Mary Allen? — 
the human bank we used to call her, she was so 
fond of swallowing things. Oh! Mary, how 
old you make me feel. And — ” 

“Yes’m,” nodded she of the golden eggs and 
brown ham. “I’m Sally Temple. Ma said 
you taught me my alphabet and had a real hard 
tussle doing it. It was a good job, though. 
Miss Fay, for I’m real literary now and Ma 
says it all came from them first lessons you 
gave.” 

Nancy dropped her merry eyes. They were 
all sitting around the table now and devouring 


40 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


the delicious food with appetites they had never 
reckoned with before. 

“Oh! you have all been so good!” Miss Rose’s 
eyes were quite dim. “You have remembered 
so — beautifully.” 

“Suz sakes!” Sally burst out; “it was real 
fun. Uncle Silas took the market wagon and 
went from house to house telling every one you 
were coming and saying, ‘What’ll you give an 
old maid to put in her cottage?’ And folks 
just pressed things on him. It was heaps 
more fun than a minister’s donation ; but it was 
real mean of Uncle Silas to hold forth about 
you being an old maid, I think.” Here Sally 
paused and took a mental inventory. “I think 
you’d pass for young anywhere, and in real 
clothes you’d be right handsome.” 

Margaret Lee started a jolly cheer, and the 
room rang with the merry sound. 

“Miss Rose,” — it was Sylvia Dean who 
spoke, — “could I have another egg? I was 
never so hungry in my life.” 

“If Sylvia, why not we?” cried Nancy; 
“count the eggs, Joy. Two apiece and two 
over. Thank heaven !” 

When the meal was finally finished, darkness 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


41 


had settled gently over the land. The clear 
stars were shining and the sentinel pine stood 
grimly guarding the httle gray house. 

“And now,” said Mary Allen with a sigh, 
“comes the mean part. Clearing away and 
redding up. You folks rest to-night; me and 
Sally will fix things and leave you tidy. 
There’s food enough in this house to last you a 
week. The hanging shelf in the cellar is filled 
with stuff, and the mice can’t reach it. Come 
on, Sally.” 

But every Camp Fire girl was on her feet. 
Even Sylvia caught the fun of the thing. 

“We glorify work because through work we are free. 
We work to win^ to conquer, to be masters. 

We work for the joy of the working and because we are 
free V* 

chanted Jane Trevor, piling up plates as she 
sang. 

“Now would you look at that!” Sally 
Temple stood with her mouth open, staring at 
the merry girls carrying dishes to the kitchen, 
perparing the dish water and seizing towels. 
“Did you ever 1” 

Mary Allen never had, but she was fasci- 
nated. And now the work song was started 


42 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


and every one joined in, Miss Rose beating 
time with the glass she was energetically rub- 
bing. 


‘‘Good morrow, fair maid, good morrow, I greet you, 

I hope in no mood for sorrow I meet you; 

There are dishes to do, mending to do, cooking to do. 
And something for you, yes, something for you, oh, 
plenty for you! 

So shake off dull care ! Hide that look of despair. 
And get busy, get busy, get busy. 

Rub-a-dub-a-dub !** 


Every girl, doing her part, shouted the 
chorus. 

“Well, of all things!” 

Sally dropped on a chair. 

“It’s the doing of it together!” Mary Allen 
sagely remarked. “Doing it alone — is dead- 
ly-” 

“All good work is divisible by hearts!” 
trilled Jane, scrubbing the frying pan glee- 
fully. “And everybody owes a rub, rub, 
rub!” 

“Here, you Mary Alien!” ordered Sally, 
recovering herself, “let’s carry these dishes to 
the pantry. My! ain’t this grand? It’s like 
dancing and romping. Here, sweep up that 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


43 


hearth while I fetch more wood. ‘Everybody 
owes a rub, rub, rub !’ ” She had caught the 
words and tune of the chorus. 


CHAPTER III 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL 

“Supper over^ now they hasten 
To their wigwams^ all excitement/’ 

Mary and Sally were gone. They had all 
walked to the edge of the meadow with them 
and bade them a hearty good-night, then 
turned and retraced their steps. It was a 
beautiful July night, stars shining, cool breeze 
blowing, and a delicious odor of wild flowers 
and growing things in the air. The pine tree 
stood dark and straight over the little house, 
from whose windows shone the lights of home. 

“How peaceful it is!” said Miss Rose tender- 
ly- 

“I wish all the dear home folks were here,” 
whispered Margaret with a light sigh. Miss 
Rose tucked her hand under Margaret’s arm. 

“You’ve won your vacation, dearie,” she said. 

“Miss Rose,” — Nancy turned as she was go- 
ing on ahead, — “could we, oh! could we have 
a Council Meeting to-night under the pine? 

44 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL 


46 


See the star hanging right over the tree; listen 
to the sound in the branehes. Please, Miss 
Rose,” 

“Oh! yes, yes!” came the chorus, 

“You are not too tired?” 

“No! no! Besides, it is only eight o’clock 
or a little after,” 

“It is nearly nine, dearies,” 

“What’s nine when the heart’s young?” 
Nancy ran ahead, gleefully quoting as she fled; 

“Toward the forest on they go now ! 

Form a circle in the darkness; 

Call they on the Great Spirit 

To help them in their fire-making/" 

A sweet seriousness grew upon the young 
faces as quickly and quietly they gathered 
wood for their first outdoor fire. They cleared 
a place under the pine tree over which the 
brilliant star shone, they made safe the spot, 
with stones and large pieces of wood, and then 
Miss Rose took her place by the well-laid pile 
and gazed fondly at her group of girls. They 
were all qualified as torch bearers, for since the 
plan was first thought of they had worked and 
prepared themselves in every way, but it was 
to Margaret that Miss Rose turned to honor 


46 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


now by lighting their first fire. There could 
never be any jealousy of Margaret. She was 
one of those girls whom all girls and women 
would always love to honor. 

“Margaret, dear, take this torch!” 

Miss Rose had lighted it hy striking two 
stones together in really Indian fashion. 

“The light which has been given me,” whis- 
pered Margaret, taking the blazing fagot, “I 
desire to pass undimmed to others.” 

The evening breeze seemed to have entered 
into the spirit of the thing, for it fanned the 
spark until a bright flash, another and another 
followed, and the mass was aflame! 

The ring of happy faces was touched with 
red light; the fantastic dress, the shining beads, 
were all turned, as if by magic, into dancing 
gleams and shadows. 

“And now we must have names,” Miss Rose 
spoke quietly, “and I have asked Nancy to pre- 
pare a list appropriating one to each girl, but 
no one need accept unless she chooses. Nancy, 
begin.” 

There were twinkles in Nancy’s dark eyes. 
She was sensing fun and her dimples showed 
merrily. 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL 


47 


“Margaret Lee,” ealled Miss Rose. 

“Margaret, I have dubbed the Swift Foot,” 
said Nancy. An irrepressible laugh broke 
from Jane Trevor, for poor Margaret was slow 
and sure and swiftness of any sort was foreign 
to her. 

“That’s no laughing matter,” said Margaret 
sweetly; “I just love the name. Nan, and I take 
it with thanks. I’ll live up to it too, or tumble 
in the attempt.” 

“Bravo!” cried Miss Rose. “And now, 
Jane Trevor.” 

“Singing Cricket. Cricky, for short. I’ve 
forgotten the Indian name, it was about a mile 
long, but Singing Cricket is enough.” Nancy 
waited. 

“Lovely!” Jane broke forth. “The Cricky 
is especially appealing. The singing shall be 
my slogan. Thank you. Nan.” 

“Sylvia, dear!” 

“The Dauntless,” promptly Nancy replied. 

“Heavens!” Joy Deering broke in. “The 
Dauntless! Sylvy, can you live up to that?” 

Sylvia’s face flushed a bit angrily. She 
knew she was cowardly and timid, but she was 
sensitive about her shortcomings. However, 


48 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


she was learning that she was only one of many, 
and any bid for favor on her part was always 
cried down among the girls. 

“This is too, too much,” Jane said with her 
bright laugh. “Our scary Sylvy, our much 
chaperoned belle, our Grandfather’s idol! 
Nancy, this is laying it on with a whitewash 
brush. Denounce her, Sylvy, and by the star 
above I’ll find you a more fitting name.” 

“Thanks!” Sylvia replied, drawing herself 
up and smiling determinedly. “I think if Meg 
can live up to swiftness, I can make a try at 
bravery. I rather like the hitching myself to 
that name. Grandfather would be delighted. 
I’m ‘The Dauntless’ all right.” 

“Good for Sylvia!” Miss Rose’s face was 
glowing and happy. 

“Joy Deering!” 

“I’m going to give Joy the name I picked out 
for myself,” said Nancy; “that is, if she wants 
it. I found it in an old Indian story. It’s 
dandy. So untrammeled and outsidy.” The 
circle bent closer and every face was eager. 

“Wap-o-me-o! It means Happy Bird. 
Wap for short. Isn’t it breezy and signifi- 
cant?” 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL 


49 


Jane Trevor rocked from side to side in sup- 
pressed mirth as she looked upon Joy’s stern, 
disapproving face. 

“Refused!” sighed Nancy. “All right. 
I’m the Wap.” 

“No, you’re not!” Joy shook her head. “I’m 
not going to he the first quitter. The Wap — ” 
then of a sudden she broke into laughter. 
“Nancy, you are too ridiculous. I’ll scream 
every time I hear the word. Wap! Why it’s 
positively deliriously funny. I dare say it will 
change my whole character. Wap, indeed!” 
And again her laugh rang out. 

“And now,” said Nancy, “I am going to 
name our dear Guardian. Hiatini, Desire of 
Accomplishment, I salute you! Your desire 
for us shall come true. We will bring honor 
upon your head and delight to your heart. 
We will live up to our names and trample our 
faults — we adore you, Hiatini!” 

For a moment tears struggled with laughter 
in Miss Rose’s eyes. They were so dear and 
girlish, these children of the Camp Brave Pine. 
They were so light-hearted and joyous, and she 
did so want the best for them. 

“Thank you, Nancy child,” she said at last 


60 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


softly. “It is a beautiful name, and graciously 
bestowed. I am desirous of accomplishing 
many things, — ^most of all, a happy summer, 
the best kind of a happy summer. And you, 
Nancy, what name have you?” 

At this the dimples disappeared from 
Nancy’s cheeks and her clear, fun-filled eyes 
fell. 

“Nameless,” she faltered. “I dared not 
name myself. Please let me win my spurs, 
and when you can all decide upon a name for 
me — then will I be no longer. Nameless.” 

“Oh!” came in disappointed chorus, but Miss 
Rose hushed it. 

“That is fine!” she cried; “we’ll go slow, 
Nancy dear, and name you well before long. 
And now for our story!” 

The fire leaped as if in anticipation; a keener 
breeze stirred — it meant to bear the tale far 
and wide, for it was a very willful, summer 
breeze, without responsibility or purpose. 
The girls fell into easy attitudes, and every face 
was turned toward the Guardian. 

“In a far Eastern country there was a great 
ruler who believed and trusted his subjects so 
perfectly that he did not fear to put them to 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL 


51 


any test. But one day a rival ruler came from 
a near-by kingdom and scoff ed at him and told 
him that the loyalty of his people was only eye- 
service-loyalty, it could stand no real test. 
This made the first ruler very sad and angry, 
and he said he would prove his subjects. So 
he had a great well dug and lined it with 
marble, and then he issued his command. 
Alone, and by night, every man should go and 
empty a measure of rich milk in the well un- 
til it should be filled. And then he waited. 
Night after night passed, and at last the well 
was full; and then the faithful ruler went alone 
with his hrother-ruler to see the result. The 
well was full of — water ! Each man, believing 
he would he the only one to cheat, had dared to 
do wrong and the poor ruler knew at last what 
their loyalty had meant.” 

When the story was ended, the girls sat 
very quietly thinking. After some time Mar- 
garet Lee spoke gently, with a little break in 
her voice. 

“Hiatini, we have no record of work done, 
to-night. At our next meeting we will try, 
every one of us, to pour some real, sweet, good 
milk in the well. And when you hear and see 


52 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


our effort, you will know that we mean to be 
loyal and faithful subjects to our Guardian.” 

“Hear! hear!” cried Nancy, and a shout 
went up. 

“But I’m thinking,” said Jane Trevor, “that 
it is quite a shame for us to keep this wonder- 
ful camp to ourselves. We want to spread the 
gospel, and — Nancy may like to get material 
— what do you say to asking Mary and Sally 
to join our ranks?” 

“Fine! Great! How like you, Jane, to 
think of it,” came the answer. All but Sylvia 
joined in. 

“Any objections?” asked Jane. “The 
Dauntless seems to hesitate.” 

“I was only thinking!” Sylvia flushed, “that 
they could not possibly understand or appre- 
ciate. They are so dull and — different. It 
might prove a — ^mistake to — give them false 
ideas.” 

“Piffle!” Nancy ejaculated. “I shouldn’t 
wonder a bit if they shamed us. Who says 
‘Aye’?” The motion was carried and Nancy 
and Margaret delegated to interview them on 
the morrow. 

“And now the evening hymn and — bed!” 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL 


53 


said Miss Rose. The girls stood up and with 
clasped hands sang sweetly and reverently: 


‘‘Lay me to sleep in sheltering flame, 

O Master of the Hidden Fire. 

Wash pure my heart and cleanse for me 
My souFs desire. 

In flame of sunrise bathe my mind, 

O Master of the Hidden Fire, 

That, when I wake, clear-eyed may be 
My souFs desire.’’ 

Then the fire was extinguished and a tired, 
happy group stole to bed. 

But down in a small, stuffy room in the home 
of Sally Temple, an embryo novelist, by the 
light of a very smelly kerosene lamp, made a 
few notes for future use. 

“Miss Fay — real ladylike and kind. Not 
polite enough to make you uncomfortable, but 
just enough to make you want to be like her. 
A — a — real inspiration!” 

“Jane Trevor — smart and fascinating — she 
could make you jealous of your beau in about 
an hour, only she’d be too nice to do a mean 
trick. Clothes look swell without costing much. 
Style! Ways of her own! Would make a 
good character — if she was handsome.” 


54 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Joy Deering — no plain leadings as to her. 
Watch her!” 

“Nancy Mowbray. Dandy! A real fine 
girl and awful funny. Make good character 
as a kind of female clown, only more ladylike.” 

“Sylvia Dean — I hate her! Good character 
for villain-lady. Smarty! ought to be taken 
down!” 

Sally Temple wanted “material” and was 
wasting no time in the getting of it ! 

The clock in the living room of the little gray 
house struck eleven, and Sylvia Dean awoke 
with a start. She sat up in bed and dazedly 
put out her hand in the dark, — an outstretched 
hand met hers! It was a cold, small hand. 
Sylvia smothered a rising scream in the patch- 
work quilt, and chattered ! 

“What do you want?” 

“Oh, Sylvy,” whispered a meek, small voice, 
“can’t you make room to squeeze me in?” 

It was Joy Deering. 

“Make room?” Sylvia’s voice had a bit of 
a sneer mingled with its quaking. “Room is 
about the only thing I cannot make. Wait! 
Let’s put the quilt around us and sit on the 
edge of the cot.” Side by side the two clung, 
and the patch-work bound them together. 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL 


55 


“It’s — it’s — fierce!” confided Joy; “can you 
stand it, Sylvy? Of course I couldn’t back out 
alone — but if there were two — of us!” 

Sylvia did not answer. 

“I just know how it will be. Work and 
dark nights and never a party or any real fun 
and snakes and hoppy things and — and 
thunderstorms and mice in the cellar — you 
know what that Sally said about swing shelves 
and mice not getting things. And Sylvy, we 
could have nice, safe hotels and parties and — 
and — comforts.” 

Still Sylvia did not speak. 

“Just listen to the stillness now!” Joy 
pleaded. 

“Why, I can hear — nothing but deathlike 
silence.” 

“Heavens! what is that?” 

Two pairs of feet were gathered up under 
the covers. “A mouse?” 

And then Sylvia spoke. 

“No! I only touched your foot with mine. 
Joy, I just dare not go away. That would 
take more courage than to stay, — thunder- 
storms, mice, and everything else considered. 
You see it would be just admitting that we 


56 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


could not rough it; had to have our sugar 
plums. Grandfather would never respeet me 
again. He’s rich — but he’s — he’s a gentleman 
and he just admires Miss Rose and Margaret 
Lee. Why, if I went back I’d feel like a poor 
baby with one of those rubber things in my 
mouth — getting a substitute to keep me from 
howling.” 

Joy Deering was thinking. 

“I — I — do not want to go alone, Sylvy,” she 
whimpered. 

“Well, I dare not go!” Dauntless pro- 
claimed. “I’m going to see this thing through 
for Grandfather’s sake. He lived through 
Libby Prison; I guess I can — stand this. 
Pluck up, J oy, maybe we’ll wrench something 
from it all. Go to bed, child, and — forget it. 
Do you know I am — half — dead for sleep!” 
She yawned broadly. “And the supper was 
awfully good!” 

J oy Deering slipped to the floor. 

“Isn’t it queer,” she faltered, “to find how 
much harder it is to run away than stay?” 
Then, going to the window: “Oh, look, Sylv}^ 
at the moonlight on the meadow below the hill. 
How soft and white it looks. Quite velvety. 


THE FIRST CEREMONIAL 


m 


And see! There’s Uncle Silas as sure as you 
live and breathe! He’s smoking his pipe and 
leaning against a tree, Hoav safe and friendly 
he looks. Good-night, Sylvy; we’ll die to- 
gether, Dauntless.” 

“All right. Wap, Turn in, and ‘to-morrow 
is to-morrow.’ ” 


CHAPTER IV 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR FLAY 

And after the breakfast dishes had been 
cleared away to the accompaniment of many a 
song and merry jest, the next morning, Mar- 
garet and Nancy started forth to see what they 
could do about getting Mary and Sally to join 
their Camp Fire Circle. 

Mrs. Allen and Mary were busy in the great 
shining kitchen of the Allen Place down at the 
farm. Since five o’clock they had been up and 
doing, and both were a bit tired and irritable. 
Mrs. Allen was making a “mess of pies” by the 
broad kitchen window overlooking the lane 
leading to the road, and Mary was “rubbing 
up the silver,” for the minister was coming to 
dinner and much remained yet to be done. 

“I don’t care, Ma, what you say,” Mary was 
saying as she polished away energetically; 
“singing does help. Work flies when you 
sing. I could learn the words and music, 

58 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


69 


they’re awful catchy — and there is a line like 
this 

“ 'Everybody owes a rub! rub! rub!’ ” 


“Lands save us, Mary, I’ll rub, rub, rub 
you the wrong way if you don’t stop your 
shallowness. Singing to your work! Who 
ever heard such rubbish. Work is work and 
singing is singing. Fancy your pa and the 
hired men coming in and hearing you and me 
skylarking as we dished up cabbage and corned 
beef. From your telling, that company up to 
the old Fay Place must be considerable loony. 
I guess if Aunt Patsy Fay could look down 
on such doings, her blood would curdle. 
Patsy Fay never got her emotions and ideas 
mixed up, and she was the dignifiedest critter 
I ever sot my eyes on. Good lands! Who 
is that coming up the lane right in the middle 
of the morning?” 

Mary, teapot in hand, ran to the window. 

“Oh, Ma, it’s them! Two of them! 
The ones they call Margaret and Nancy. 
Oh, Ma, they’ve come to call real neighborly- 
like. Ain’t they sweet?” 

“Sweet?” Mrs. Allen was in real terror. 


60 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Sweet? Calling right in my busy time. 
Land save us; rush to the front door, Mary, 
and head them off!” 

“Oh, Ma, they’re making for the back 
door. I couldn’t head ’em off without getting 
in front of them and hustling them about. 
Do, Ma, let ’em come right in.” 

“In the kitchen! Them strangers! What 
do you think the parlor is for. Miss? Why 
did I spend time and money on that front 
room if not for company? Lands!” And at 
that moment Margaret and Nancy stood at 
the screen door, their bright faces beaming 
with fun and good will. 

“What a perfectly charming room!” Mar- 
garet exclaimed, “and, Mary, I am sure this 
is your mother! Good morning, Mrs. Allen; 
please may we come in?” 

Mrs. Allen was elbow deep in flour and 
dough, so she nodded and said : 

“Step in if you prefer kitchens to parlors. 
Good-morning.” 

“Oh! we love kitchens,” Nancy cried, fol- 
lowing Margaret in, “and this one is — a 
peach! Excuse me, Mrs. Allen, I know I’m 
not a bit polite to use such language, and 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


61 


Margaret — ^this is Margaret Lee — is scowling 
fearfully. I’m Nancy Mowbray. Oh! look 
at that honeysuckle across the window! And 
the smell! No wonder you are such a famous 
cook.” 

In spite of herself Mrs. Allen’s face relaxed, 
and Mary was grinning with delight. 

“How on earth did you hear of my cook- 
ing?” The dough clung to the firm hands, 
which were trying to toss it lightly aside. 

“Uncle Silas and Miss Rose. Miss Rose 
says the memory of your strawberry pies has 
cheered the darkest hours of her life. The 
crust, she says, was a dream of bliss. She’s 
never been able to conquer the trick.” 

“These be strawberry pies,” admitted Mrs. 
Allen, freeing herself of the dough at last and 
tossing it on the rolling board. 

“I just knew it,” said Nancy. 

“Oh! Mrs. Allen,” and now Margaret 
went over and stood beside the table, while 
Nancy stepped across the room to Mary. 
“I was just thinking. Couldn’t you give us 
all lessons in pie making? The thought came 
to me like a flash this very minute. Couldn’t 
we come down here and take lessons?” 


62 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Lands!” Mrs. Allen stared at the sweet 
young face beside her. Under the broad yel- 
low linen hat, Margaret’s eyes looked deeper 
and kinder and bluer than ever and the woman 
relaxed, as all women did to Margaret. 

“I ain’t looking for an extra job,” she said, 
patting the dough lovingly now that she had 
got it under control; “my time is pretty well 
took up.” 

“Oh! but we could do our little specialty in 
return.” 

At this Mrs. Allen stared, holding a flaky 
mass of dough at arm’s length. 

“Doing work to music,” explained Mar- 
garet; “Nan, give Mrs. Allen an example.” 

At this Nancy took up a cloth and began to 
polish silver with an energy and purpose never 
before witnessed by the surprised Mrs. Allen. 

“For all good work divides by hearts. 

So learn the song and know the parts and you owe a rub, 
rub, rub!” 

Mary laughed gleefully and caught the 
words and tune quickly. The silver shone 
and sparkled and lay in glittering rows, while 
Margaret tapped the floor keeping time and 
joining in with her sweet, clear voice. 




TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


63 


“Land sakes!” cried Mrs. Allen at last; “if 
you keep on, I’ll be adding my eontralto.” 

“Do! Do!” the girls all cried. 

“Rub! Rub! Rub!” Mrs. Allen burst 
in, making the dough hop with excitement. 

“Mary!” ejaculated Mrs. Allen suddenly, 
“while we’ve been skylarking the parlor has 
been left — undusted! The minister is coming 
at noon!” 

“Just another blessing!” Nancy and 
Mary had finished the silver. “Lead on, 
Mary, and see the dust fly — out of the window. 
Come in, Meg!” 

The mad trio rushed from the kitchen, and 
the mistress stood aghast. 

“Well! of all creatures,” she panted. “If 
that ain’t impudence. But the way Mary 
rushed to tackle work heats -me. And them 
two strangers taking liberties in this house! 
Rub! Rub! Rub! — land! what a fool I he 
and yet — ” Mrs. Allen looked at the bright 
silver and listened to the girlish voices singing 
away in the parlor; — “it would he kind of fun 
to set work to music, Mary and me! If tunes 
bring harmony in church, and soothe dying 
beds and put little children to sleep, there’s 


64 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


no sense in holding out against them when 
you’re working full tilt. Rub! Rub! 
Rub!” 

And then the three came back, jubilantly 
waving their dusters. 

“That parlor certainly has had a surprise 
party,” gasped Mary, “and Ma, Margaret 
cut and fixed flowers in the vases, and Nancy 
draped the new curtains in the latest style. I 
guess the minister will sit up and take notice 
to-day. And, Ma — Margaret has something 
to ask you! And please, Ma — don’t answer 
first clip, please — wait five minutes before you 
answer.” 

The pleading in poor Mary’s face was al- 
most pathetic. Margaret went over to the 
table. The beautiful pies were ready for the 
oven and they were good to look at. 

“We want Mary to be a Camp Fire Girl, 
Mrs. Allen. We want her very much. We 
know how busy you are, and we shall be so 
glad and happy to help Mary with her work. 
Besides, it would mean so much to us to have 
you teach us — housekeeping. You see, we 
are going to try to be good home-makers some 
day, and some of us live in tiny fiats with 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


65 


kitchenettes and we want to leam home ways.” 

Mrs. Allen’s eyes were on the clock. She 
wanted to be fair and just, but this onslaught 
had unnerved her. Margaret meant to make 
the most of her five minutes. 

“It’s only give and take, dear Mrs. Allen. 
You teach us to work beautifully. We will 
not be in the way, nor bother you, and then 
let us have Mary every evening for an hour 
or two. We are going to read some fine 
books, and Miss Rose has ordered a piano 
from the village ; we’ll sing and get near each 
other. We just need Mary!” 

The five minutes were up ! Mrs. Allen 
wiped her heated face and took to questioning, 
which from her was always a hopeful sign. 

“And Mary to wear them togs like what 
she has been explaining about?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Allen. Sylvia Dean’s grand- 
father sent two extra suits down in case of 
need. Mary is one of the needs.” 

Nancy was standing and watching this 
scene with amused eyes. She never could 
have handled it as Margaret was doing. 

“We’ll always bring Mary to the bars at 
the foot of the lane, Mrs. Allen. We’ll come 


66 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


in a body. We have a perfectly fascinating 
song called Mammy Moon; we’ll sing that to 
let you know we are coming, and you’ll leave 
a light in the window to cheer us and guide 
us. Oh! please, Mrs. Allen, it will be such 
fun and — ” 

“Such snappy work!” Nancy burst in, un- 
able to restrain herself any longer. 

Somehow this break caused every one to 
relax. 

“Land sake!” Mrs. Allen suddenly ex- 
claimed, her kindly face all aglow. “I’d put 
you both out of this house bag and baggage 
if it wasn’t for Miss Rose Fay. As it is, I 
might just as well say yes, I suppose, in order 
to get rid of you. It’s nigh onto eleven — 
yes, Mary shall be one of them foolish acting 
girls if it will do you any good, and if you 
don’t get underfoot you can come, one at a 
time, and learn cooking. The chances are I’ll 
be saving the life of some man who may happen 
to be silly enough to marry you by and by. 
And now clear out, or I’ll be singing that 
plaguey tune again, it’s got into my feet.” 

“Oh! thank you, thank you, Mrs. Allen!” 
cried Margaret, while Nancy waltzed around 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


67 


the big, sunny kitchen with the bewitched 
Mary. 

After leaving the house Nancy and Mar- 
garet walked along for a time in silence; then 
Nancy aired her feelings. 

“If we’ve got to wrench our members by the 
sweat of our brows and the labor of our hands 
— I think they come high!” 

Margaret laughed. 

“I think it is splendid,” she said; “why Nan, 
this scheme of ours is a two-edged sword. 
We’ll get a liberal education if we work the 
thing right and we’ll carry a bit of happiness 
to others. Now — for Sally Temple.” 

“Well, I hope her price isn’t a course in 
cooking and parlor work. Whew! for a hot 
July day I think day labor is pretty severe 
penance.” 

The Temple house was in Compton Cor- 
ners near the post office. Mr. Temple kept 
the village store and the family home was be- 
side it. It was a neat place and Mrs. Temple 
and Sally were on the front porch as the 
girls came up. 

“If there ain’t two of them now!” exclaimed 
Sally dropping the basket of peas she was 
helping her mother shell. 


68 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Mrs. Temple was a pretty, weak looking 
woman dressed in a white gown, her hair 
curled and arranged in a marvelous fashion 
high on her head. She clutched the basket 
Sally let drop and carried that, and the pan she 
held, into the house. When she returned she 
was all smiles and bows and quite the real 
lady! 

“Do set down!” she said shaking hands and 
looking a little undecided as to whether she 
should kiss Margaret and Nancy. “Sally has 
been telling me all about you. It must be 
real fascinating up to the hill. We remember 
Miss Fay — her family always stood well here- 
abouts. We’re real glad to welcome her and 
her friends.” 

Mrs. Temple spoke as if she were the mayor 
of the town and giving the freedom of the 
place to distinguished visitors. 

Nancy had a strong inclination to giggle 
and dropped her eyes for fear she might wink 
at Margaret who was assuming an expression 
of superhuman dignity. 

They had a little more talk on general sub- 
jects and then Margaret told what they had 
really come for. 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


69 


“We would like so very much to have Sally 
join our Camp Fire Club. We are going to 
read evenings, play games and sing, and once 
a week have a real ceremonial and a fire — un- 
less it is too hot, and then we’ll have candles. 
Of course Sally may not care to come every 
evening; it is quite a distance.” 

“Oh! I would, I would!” cried Sally ex- 
citedly; “I could stay all night with Mary. 
She’s real near, you know.” 

Mrs. Temple was considering. She was 
one of those women who weigh and consider 
from a very selfish point of view and then 
break suddenly into many words giving the 
impression that they had not thought at all. 

‘Why it’s simply fascinating!” She pres- 
ently burst out; “perfectly fascinating and I’m 
sure Sally and me are real pleased, but it 
couldn’t possibly be every evening, daughter.” 

“Oh! Ma, why not?” SaUy resorted to 
sulks very easily. 

“We must think of — Pa!” Mrs. Temple 
issued this in a hushed and awed voice. 

“Oh, Pa,” snipped Sally on the point of 
tears. “It’s always Pa and the Governor and 
the President and the old White House. I 
just hate them all.” 


70 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Mrs. Temple looked genuinely shocked and 
felt some explanation was necessary. 

“You see, it is this way,” she said, looking 
weakly at her visitors. “Mr. Temple is 
really a great man, a man of intellect and 
his towns-people are running him for office — 
he may go to — Bosting and I’ve always said 
and Sally has heard me, ‘give Pa Temple a 
chance in the right direction and his end is 
secure.’ Haven’t I said that over and again, 
Sally.” 

“Oh, yes, Ma, and a whole lot else of — 
stuff.” 

Mrs. Temple took no notice of this im- 
pertinence. 

“And what’s more,” she ran on, “Mr. 
Temple’s wife and daughter has got to help 
him. We can’t afford to show preferences 
or take sides. We go to both churches — 
Baptist here and Presbyterian over Landis 
way. One in the morning; one in the even- 
ing and turn about. There are the two 
weekly prayer meetings, and the Ladies’ Aids, 
and—” 

“Ma! I just can’t stand it.” Sally sprang 
up and stood in front of her mother, “I ain’t 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


71 


going to be religioned into an early grave. 
So there! I’m going up to the hill and play 
heathen some of the time if I bust! So there! 
I just know Pa will let me. He told me 
himself he was about wore out ’twixt hell fire 
and cold plunges — ” 

“Sally!” 

Mrs. Temple was driven to self-assertion. 

“Another word and you’ll go to the — ^ 
Catholic Sunday School.” 

“Oh! Oh!” wailed Sally. “Oh! Oh!” 

During the scene Margaret’s face grew more 
and more solemn and Nancy’s was a study for 
a comic artist. 

“Oh! Mrs. Temple,” Margaret spoke 
rapidly as if expecting another deluge ; “maybe 
we could get her for one or two nights. Let’s 
see. What nights are the prayer meetings?” 

“Wednesday and Friday!” Sally snapped, 
stamping her foot angrily, “and silly old 
things they are, too.” 

“And the Ladies’ Aids?” Margaret rushed 
on. 

“Afternoons! the hideous messes! Mak- 
ing ugly clothes for heathens that don’t 
want ’em and ought’n to have them.” 


72 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Well, that leaves Monday, Tuesday and 
Saturday evenings, Mrs. Temple.” 

“Saturday night is tub night — ” Mrs. 
Temple put in feebly. 

“I ain’t any dirtier Saturday night then I be 
Saturday afternoon. I can tub Saturday aft- 
ernoon.” Sally was driving her Mother to 
the wall. 

“We’ll expect Sally then at least twice a 
week, may we not, Mrs. Temple? We’ll try 
and give her a good time.” 

Margaret’s sweet ladylike ways were win- 
ning Mrs. Temple, but Nancy’s face was at- 
tracting her attention. It dawned upon her 
that Nancy was not as impressed as she should 
be — and that was a humiliating feeling for 
Mrs. Temple to have. 

“I’ll — I’ll think it over,” Mrs. Temple said 
slowly eyeing Nancy. Then Nancy made 
her dash for favor. 

“Perhaps we can help Mr. Temple,” she 
smiled her prettiest. “Miss Rose knows all 
the people and they all love her. We might 
give Mr. Temple a — ^boost.” 

“A what?” The lady in the rocker looked 
aghast. 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


73 


“A — a boost! A boom, you know. We 
might have a torch light procession or a bon- 
fire and speeches and ice cream and lemonade, 
or if there was too big a crowd — pop beer!” 

“Lands!” Mrs. Temple leaned back; “you 
sound real — unwomanly. But then you are 
pretty young. I just can’t abide an un- 
womanly woman — I want that Sally should 
be real sexful. It pays!” 

Margaret got up and drew the call to a 
quick end. 

“We’ll just trust to luck for Sally,” she 
said, shaking hands, “I think you’ll let her 
come. We must hurry now for dinner. 
Three miles to walk and Joy and Sylvia are 
cooks to-day. Good-by ; good-by.” 

When the two girls were safely beyond 
sight of Mrs. Temple and Sally, they paused 
to take breath. Neither had spoken until that 
moment but both had laughed until their eyes 
were overflowing. 

“Oh! Meg!” 

“Oh! Nancy!” 

“Meg, ain’t she — flerce?” 

“Nan — isn’t it too, too awful? And yet I 
never saw a girl who needed Miss Rose more.” 


74 . 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Nor a mother who needed, so much a 
— spanking. Just think of poor Pa in the 
White House with Ma!” 

“Nancy!” 

“And think of Sylvia hobnobbing with the 
defiant Sally! And won’t Joy do her up on 
close acquaintance? But that hell fire and 
cold plunge wasn’t a bit bad. It was pic- 
turesque and expressive. Meg — the minx 
has — a flow of language and a sense of humor. 
My! what a morning. We’ve got two mem- 
bers at the expense of nerves and muscle and 
to think we have a dinner by Joy and Sylvia 
to comfort us at the trip’s end. I can catch 
the odors even here. Capsule soup, limp 
lettuce and scorched potatoes. Fudge for 
dessert and — finger bowls. Ha! Ha!” 

But no such disaster confronted them. 
Upon reaching the little gray house they were 
met by Miss Rose and the other girls who were 
beaming and beckoning them to hurry on. 

“I’m not going to use my strength up for 
lettuce and fudge!” Nancy groaned. And 
just then Miss Rose came close enough to an- 
nounce. 

“Such a strange thing has happened. We 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


75 


found a big hamper at the door with a din- 
ner — and such a dinner — all cooked and com- 
plete.” 

“Thank Heaven!” Nancy exploded, rush- 
ing ahead. 

“It fell like manna from Heaven!” Sylvia 
further explained. “I went out to get some 
lettuce that was hanging in the well and there 
was no hamper! Joy went out to get some 
fudge she had put to cool in the ice house, and 
there was a hamper!” 

“And not a note or anything!” gasped Jane 
skipping about like a merry little tyke. “And 
such cooking — um! um!” 

Nancy paused in her walk. 

“Have you snitched?” she asked anxiously. 

“Never a snitch! but oh! the snitFs and the 
looks. A chicken!” 

“Merciful heaven.” Nancy joined Jane. 

“Go on,” she pleaded. 

“And gravy in a milk bottle. And a loaf 
of bread and — and — a pie, an apple pie — 
green apple pie. And a dish of macaroni, and 
cheese an inch thick on top! And — a choco- 
late cake!” 

At this Nancy simply fled and the others 
followed on a run. 


76 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Oh! Sylvia,” Margaret said as she pant- 
ingly kept apace — “think from what you have 
been saved!” 

“And — ^you,” said Sylvia without a thought 
of being funny. 

The magic dinner was spread out upon the 
table and it was only after the hungry group 
had been satisfied that Jane Trevor said: 

“Now that you’ve tested it. Miss Rose, can 
you venture a guess as to who sent it.” 

“I cannot. The Corners is noted for its 
good cooks and my dear Aunt Patsy was 
greatly beloved. I am sure some noble 
woman friend of hers took pity upon us.” 

“She was noble all right!” Nancy leaned 
back in her chair a happier and fuller girl — 
“do you think your Aunt Patsy had enough 
noble friends to — to — carry us through the 
summer in this gracious fashion?” 

Every one shouted. 

“I hope not,” said Miss Rose; “it would 
interfere with my plans very much, not to 
mention my pride. We must provide for our- 
selves. Those of us who do not know how to 
cook must learn!” 

Dear Miss Rose tried to look severe. And 


TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY 


77 


then Margaret explained Mrs. Allen’s cook- 
ing classes. 

“I see Sylvia doing the humble pie act in 
the farmhouse kitchen!” groaned Joy. “And 
I see poor little me being rapped on the noddle 
for spilling things on the table and burning up 
the food.” 

“Come, Wap — cheer up,” Nancy cried, “if 
the cricket can turn from her office ways and 
be wise in house-lore, you can. By the way, 
any mail?” 

“Oh! yes, and five letters for you, Nancy.” 
Miss Rose replied rising to get them. 

“And what do you think?” Jane burst out. 
“I forgot to tell you, too. Judge Conly has 
given me four weeks more vacation. He says 
if I come home before that he’ll discharge me. 
He and Sylvia’s grandfather are going off 
on a trip with some one — and I’m not wanted.” 

“Oh! most wise Judge!” quoted Margaret, 
“isn’t this a — a great day for us?” 


CHAPTER V 


SILAS JUNIOR 

It was their first rainy day! A real cold, 
windy day. A fire was burning on the hearth 
in the living room and it was four in the aft- 
ernoon. 

Joy Deering and Sylvia Dean were sway- 
ing back and forth before the blazing logs and 
from above stairs came the sound of Nancy’s 
merry jokes; Margaret’s laugh and INIiss 
Rose’s quiet remarks. 

“The poor Cricket hasn’t come up from her 
cooking lesson has she?” asked Sylvia with a 
droop to her pretty mouth. 

“Not yet.” The Wap was wrapped in 
gloom. 

“She’ll take her death. It’s the kind of wet 
that gets into your bones. Ooh!” 

“The Cricket never was better in her life. 
I will say that for this — Country life in 
America.” 

“Oh! Joy, don’t take to joking, Nancy 

78 


SILAS JUNIOR 


79 


gets onto my nerves. She always sounds as 
if she were speaking to an audience or dictating 
to a stenographer. That endless cheerfulness 
of hers is dreadfully depressing.” 

“Oh! Daunty, cheer up. It’s not half so 
bad. We are all blooming; never better in 
our lives. A big hotel would bore us, you 
know, and Nancy is a darling. Think how she 
wouldn’t let any one tease you about those 
cookies you learned to make at Mrs. Allen’s! 
Salt instead of sugar was a test to put Nancy’s 
wit to — but she never batted an eye, as Sally 
says.” 

“The memory of those cooking lessons 
makes me ill,” Sylvia groaned, “and Mrs. 
Allen is so — so — ordinary. Do you know 
what she said to me the other day? She said 
it was shameful that I had been permitted to 
grew up in such ignorance. And just be- 
cause I said I didn’t know when water was 
boiling! She said if Mary hadn’t known that 
much when she was horn she’d have spanked 
her. Country people are so — so vulgar. 
And I tell you right now, Joy Deering, if 
Grandfather hadn’t burned my bridges by go- 
ing off with Jane’s old Judge and shutting 


80 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


up the house, I’d have gone home to-day. 
When it’s clear and the fun is going on it’s 
all right, hut to work in the rain is hideous 
and Miss Rose is so — insistent and besides one 
cannot be difF erent from the others ! Oh ! J oy, 
don’t you yearn to put on a party gown and 
look — fine?” 

“There’s no law against it!” Joy replied. 
“We each have party togs in case of an emer- 
gency.” 

“That’s it — ^but there’s no emergency!” 
The Dauntless looked peevish. “Besides, al- 
though Nancy says she has one, she will never 
show it. She keeps her trunk locked. She’s 
awfully mean about some things and she never 
draws a line between jokes and truths.” 

“The rest of us have party things any way 
and, oh! Sylvy, I have an idea. Let’s all 
dress up this evening after supper and play 
‘reception’! We’ll make candy over the open 
fire and bake potatoes and have great fun.” 

The Dauntless showed signs of reviving. 

“I believe you like this life, Joy,” she said. 

“Daunty, I do. I confess. I never had so 
much fun for so little in all my days. Father 
and Mother have left me free to return and 


SILAS JUNIOR 


81 


I just — can’t! Every time I think of you 
all at a Ceremonial or around the lamps of 
an evening reading — the thought of a silly 
summer hotel makes me ill. Honestly, I like 
it, rain, thunder, mice and all!” 

“Well, the idea of dressing up isn’t bad. 
It’s too rainy for that awful Sally Temple to 
come up and we can be just our ownies to- 
night. Let’s tell the others!” 

Away they ran upstairs, and the pretty 
living room with its glow and old-fashioned 
comfort was left empty until presently a 
drippy little figure entered and looked sur- 
prisedly around. The small wet person was 
Jane, the Cricket, and her face was all a-glow, 
her eyes shining and her pretty hair escaping 
from her rubber hood, curling delightfully. 

Dear little Jane went back to the hall and 
took off her outer wraps and high water-tight 
boots, then she tip-toed, stocking-footed into 
the room again, and nestled down upon the 
floor, before the welcome heat. 

It was no longer the pale Jane of the office, 
but a rosy dimpled Jane with the breeziest 
manner. Three weeks had wrought a marvel 
in her and she was as happy as a bird. 


82 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“What a day!” she whispered toasting her 
toes luxuriously. “I can make bread fit to 
eat, three kinds of pies — one kind of crust for 
them! And I’ve ‘hung’ a skirt for dear Mrs. 
Temple, and shown Mary how to put hooks 
on her waist so they won’t hump. Oh ! how I 
love it all. The dearness and funniness and 
differentness. Some day the precious Mother 
and I are going to have the weeniest house in 
the country. The real country like this — the 
red barn country ! The INI other is going to be 
jolly once more — she says the city stifles her; 
it will me, too, after this! How am I to get 
— the country?” 

Jane held one foot out daintily as if that 
small member were questioning the busy fanci- 
ful brain. “You saucy thing! Why — the 
Judge is going to — well! not die, but have a 
change of heart. He’s going to say — ‘now, 
Jane Trevor, a few thousands to me more or 
less, don’t count, but if you’ll do up all my 
jams and pickles and send all my fresh eggs 
and butter down from your country seat that 
I’m going to provide for you; and if you’ll 
promise to make your mother jolly again — 
we’ll call it a bargain!” 


SILAS JUNIOR. 


With this flight of fancy Jane huddled her 
knees in her arms and fixed her pretty eyes on 
the heart of the flame. 

“How can I ever stand the typewriter 
again?” she whispered; “and a steam radiator 
and — the subway?” 

“Cricket!” came a call from upstairs, “is 
that you?” 

“Yes, Hiatini!” 

“Why aren’t you — singing?” 

“Going to — at once, Guardy.” 

And a brave little trill echoed through the 
house. 

“Very wet, childie?” 

“Blessedly so, but dry as a piece of popped 
corn now. I know how to make batter pud- 
ding, Hiatini and — com muffins.” 

“Fine! But come upstairs now, dear. We 
have a great plan. Supper at five-thirty 
and a big reception afterward. Full dress — 
your gray cloudy thing with yellow roses! 
And we’re going to talk society. Come up!” 

Jane was upstairs before Miss Rose had 
ceased speaking. 

“Who’s coming?” she asked breathlessly. 

“That’s it,” answered Sylvia from her wig- 


84 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


warn (the bedrooms were all wigwams by 
now). 

“If only there was one hoy. I know boys 
are generally fussy and unnecessary, but at 
times they do fit in. They seem to go with 
your nice clothes and dances. At such times 
they are necessary.” 

“Nan, dear, what are you to wear?” Jane 
leaned against Nancy’s door. 

“I’ll show you later. You girls do not be- 
lieve me, but I have a party dress. A stunner. 
But I haven’t had a walk to-day and I’ll go 
for the mail right after supper. The R. F. 
D. goes past the pasture at 6:30. You all get 
ready and I’ll come down and surprise you.” 

Nancy was writing by the western window 
and stopped to answer Jane with a twinkle in 
her eye. 

“What you writing. Nan?” 

At this the laugh left Nancy’s cheery face 
and she beckoned Jane in. 

“Make yourself comfy on the trunk or bed, 
Janey, I want to ’fess. I’m writing a story! 
It’s getting out of my system. You know 
how I have often wanted to do it but always 
the story seemed caged and couldn’t get free. 


SILAS JUNIOR 


85 


Since IVe been here — the door of the cage 
has opened. Not much, dear, I’m never go- 
ing to burst into glory, but the vital spark is 
kind of — peeping forth. You’ll laugh, I 
know, but Sally Temple has helped me more 
than any one else.” 

“Sally Temple?” Jane had sunk luxuri- 
ously on the steamer trunk. Jane was one of 
those girls who could have rested gracefully 
on a blacksmith’s forge. She relaxed so 
prettily. 

“Sally Temple of all people.” 

“Yes, Sally. I cannot tell you why, but 
when alone with her she — well, she has the 
faculty of — setting me free. She’s a lot more 
like her father than her mother. Ma Temple 
simply brings out the Sally of her; dear, gentle 
little Pa turns her into Sarah at once. That 
child has got to have a test to make her find 
herself, Janey Trevor, but in the meantime 
she’s helping me find myself. Think what 
she said to me the other day when we were out 
walking?” 

Jane shook her head. 

“Nancy,” she said and then gave that Sally 
— giggle of hers. “Do you ever think that 


86 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


there is a real story in every house in this 
town? People shut the doors and windows 
and keep the story in — but it’s there.” And 
then she told me the sweetest thing about Miss 
Rose’s old Aunt Patsy. Sally had traced it 
all by herself from things she had heard. You 
should have seen Sally’s eyes; when she for- 
got herself in her story she was Sarah through 
and through. 

“Couldn’t I hear a bit of it now?” pleaded 
Jane. 

“Nary a bit! And now scamper, Janey. 
I’m at a high pitch and I must make the most 
of this diluted daylight. I’m writing a play 
for us all.” 

There was an early supper that evening and 
Miss Rose and Margaret were the cooks — 
“thank kind Providence,” as Joy Deering 
said. “A doleful night with Sylvy and me as 
cooks would be laying it on too thick.” 

“Well,” Miss Rose had laughingly replied, 
“at least you two recognize your limitations; 
that’s something and Mrs. Allen is making 
some impression. She told me the other day 
that Sylvia’s grip of an egg beater was grow- 
ing firmer with every lesson and that Joy had 
a ‘real sense’ about ‘seasoning cookies.’ ” 


SILAS JUNIOR 


87 


Sylvia and Joy looked at each other shyly. 

The supper on that wet and drippy night 
was a good one. Toast done to a golden 
crispness, melted maple sugar that, with ar- 
tistic manipulation at the right moment could 
be stirred into the most delicious candy; thin 
slices of cold ham, nicely fried potatoes and a 
big luscious cake, — “snow-bound” Nancy de- 
clared as she smacked her lips at the creamy 
icing. 

“But for cake as was cake pure and simple!” 
Jane cried, holding her own slice daintily; “do 
you all remember that chocolate dream that 
came in the manna — sent from heaven-ham- 
per?” 

“You ungrateful little wretch!” exclaimed 
Nancy. “Isn’t the present cake good enough 
company for you?” 

“Yes. The other;” Jane set her teeth in 
the “present company” and smiled dreamily; 
“is now merely a sacred memory. No one but 
an artist could have made that. An artistic 
woman who, had she not been a specialist in 
chocolate cake, would have been a leader of 
men and women! Miss Rose, why is it that 
a man can never be a good general cook, but 
can only qualify in one thing?” 


88 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“I’m sure I do not know, Janey. They 
may be other kinds for all I could say to the 
contrary.” 

“Well, there are not. Over and again I’ve 
put them to the test. Sunday nights mother 
and I have go-as-you-please suppers. Any 
one who comes in may take a hand. It’s lots 
of fun but awfully messy. Tod Nilson makes 
a divine Rarebit and his chum Jimmy Nichols 
can create creamed oysters — not prepare them 
— but create them. But when a general sup- 
per is in order made of leavings they are no 
good at all.” A sigh floated through space 
following Jane’s remarks. 

“What’s the matter, Sylvia?” asked Miss 
Rose. 

“Oh! I’m sure you will disapprove very 
much, dear Hiatini!” Sylvia replied; “but 
Jane’s description of those Sunday night sup- 
pers make me positively green with envy. 
Say what you please, boys and men do have 
their place in the scheme of things, as our 
minister says. Of course we can do without 
them and still have a good time. I wouldn’t 
want many of them or often on such a vaca- 
tion as this — but just fancy — ” Sylvia’s 


SILAS JUNIOR 


89 


pretty, fair face with the little freckles on her 
cunning nose, looked earnest — “just fancy, if 
on such a night as this when we are all dressed 
up and making believe a couple of real jolly 
boys tramped in — ” 

“A couple?” Nancy broke in fervently. 
“Well, you are unselfish, Sylvy; aren’t you 
and Joy going to have any — not to mention 
Meg and Miss Rose?” 

A general laugh rang out at Sylvia’s ex- 
pense. She pouted and then went on: 

“Anyway — a jolly, good fellow — if only one 
of him, would add zeal to a bit of fun and nice 
clothes.” 

Miss Rose looked quite serious for a moment 
and then she cheered up. 

“You all have society enough during the 
winter,” she said. “I believe in co-ed and co- 
social as you all very well know, but for this 
dear resting time and growing time I do be- 
lieve it is best as it is.” 

To the merriest kind of singing and joking 
the dishes were washed and put away and the 
rooms made tidy. 

“We must get Uncle Silas to bring in a 
generous supply of wood when he comes to- 


90 


CAMP BRAVE PINPl 


night,” Miss Rose said as she laid on a fresh 
log or two. “And the rain has ceased, I do 
declare! Nancy are you going to meet the 
Free Delivery Man?” 

“Yes, Hiatini.” 

“Then put these letters in the box for collec- 
tion to-morrow morning, dear, and hurry 
hack and dress for the party.” 

At seven-thirty Sylvia Dean stole out of 
her wigwam a dream of beauty. Softly she 
tip-toed downstairs, entered the living room 
and stood before the small mirror between the 
windows. 

“It’s the first time I’ve seen myself really, 
since I’ve been here,” she murmured. “That 
splinter of glass in my bedroom doesn’t count. 
I don’t often dare to look in it, I seem 
so — changed. Oh, those freckles!” Sylvia 
wrinkled her nose, “and the tan on my neck! 
And my waist is too tight — I’m actually get- 
ting fat.” 

The sweet white gown with its dainty 
wreath of rose buds outlining the “Dutch- 
neck,” was very becoming to the fluffy, blonde 
girl. 


SILAS JUNIOR 


91 


“And my pumps are two small. Oh! dear 
I’m afraid I’m — I’m — expanding!” 

A quick, cautious step on the stairs roused 
Sylvia from her revery and she turned to face 
Jane Trevor in a love of a dress. It was pale 
gray and had bright twinkling trimming that 
looked like stars in a mist. 

“It’s — stunning, Janey, and don’t you dare 
tell me you made it yourself.” 

“Mother and I — but oh! Sylvy, it was all 
right when I was a white, colorless snip, but 
I look simply ferocious in gray now with my 
brown and red complexion and Sylvy — I 
weigh six pounds more than I did when I came 
here. I was weighed yesterday!” 

“Heavens !” Sylvia exclaimed. “I dare not 
be weighed, I’m sure we’ll all be sights when 
we go back.” 

“But oh! Sylvy — isn’t it heavenly here? 
The openness and sweetness and quiet. I 
rather hate clothes — all but our khaki cos- 
tumes — I’m a free creature and I adore this 
life. If I only had my little mother, a few 
books and the big sky I’d be — content.” 

“Jane Trevor! And you with your chums 


92 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


and those Sunday night suppers where boys 
just naturally — go! Why you’re the envy of 
— of — my set.” 

Sylvia’s burst of confidenee made Jane 
laugh. “I’d change them all,” she said pres- 
ently, “for the dear — this!” She went to the 
window, opened it and looked out. The room 
was a bit warm with the open fire, but outside 
a crisp breeze was stirring. 

“There’s the star over the Brave Pine,” Jane 
spoke tenderly, “and the lights twinkling at 
The Corners” — she thought of the “story in 
each house” and smiled and — “good gra- 
cious !” 

“What’s the matter?” asked Sylvia from 
the mirror. 

“I thought — I saw a — a — ^man.” 

“Good heavens! where?” Sylvia was at the 
window; “was it — Uncle Silas?” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t. He was thinner and 
— and — he was dropping down from the piazza 
roof!” 

“Oh! Shut that window, Jane Trevor, and 
let’s call Miss Rose. This is awful! It’s the 
kind of thing I knew would happen sometime 
in this desolate place.” 


SILAS JUNIOR 


93 


“I think;” Jane closed the window. “I 
think I only imagined it, Sylvy. I’m sure 
there was no man. It — was — a joke!” 

“Well, it’s a ghastly one and I’m all of a 
flutter. Is my nose red?” 

“No, it’s only speckly. Here are the 
others!” And in they came. Miss Rose in a 
quaint, trailing gown of white with lavender 
flowers on it, Margaret in a pink organdie and 
Joy in a filmy blue affair that floated about 
the little figure like a cloud. 

Joy’s lips were turning up at the corners 
quite often now — she had learned to he merry 
and her eyes had a twinkle. 

“Just look at the Wap!” exclaimed Jane, 
rushing to Joy and taking her by the 
shoulders, “I did not realize the change in her 
when she wore her Wap-clothes. Why, child, 
you have color in your cheeks and you are 
developing a dimple. You’re hair is tanned, 
too, it is goldly in the white. My! but you 
look — fetching!” Every one laughed — even 
Joy herself. 

“Has Nancy come back yet?” asked Miss 
Rose. 

“No!” Margaret replied. “I looked in her 


94 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


wigwam as I came past. Give Naney oppor- 
tunity and she is always late. Miss Rose, 
please play a two-step — I feel jiggy.” 

The piano was a new addition and Miss 
Rose’s treat. It was not a very fine instru- 
ment, but it was in tune and a constant de- 
light. Away whirled the girls ; Margaret and 
Sylvia; Jane and Joy. 

Faster and faster the girls turned and 
tripped. Lightly, healthfully and merrily 
they went from living room to hall and dining 
room. Then suddenly something stopped 
them and they rushed together in the living 
room and listened. 

“Gosh!” It was Uncle Silas’ voice. “Who 
be you? And what yer want prowling 
around here I’d like to know?” 

Sylvia looked at Jane in dismay. 

“Why, Unele Silas, don’t you know me! 
I’m the son of your sister Kate down to Lost 
Point. She — ” and then a whispered eonver- 
sation followed while the listeners in the liv- 
ing room almost held their breaths. 

“Waal! Waal! Waal!” Unele Silas cried 
at last; “if this don’t beat all. Sister Kate’s 
lad and I ain’t seen her since she was married ! 


SILAS JUNIOR 


95 


Seems to me I heard her boy — what’s that, she 
named you for me? — Silas Junior? Now 
what do you think of that? And you ain’t 
lacking like report had it, but just timid? 
Lands! Lands! Here, Silas Junior, wait till 
I drop this load of wood I was a-haulin’. 
There, now, come on, I want that Miss Fay 
and the young ladies should see my nephy 
Silas.” 

“Do you suppose he was the one you saw 
dropping from the piazza roof?” whispered 
Sylvia to Jane. 

“I told you that was a joke,” Jane whis- 
pered back and then Uncle Silas appeared at 
the door with a tall lanky boy whose stiff 
dark hair hung around his forehead and neck. 
The boy’s eyes were lowered shyly and he 
twirled his cap awkwardly. A long loose 
coat hung limply from his shoulders and the 
trousers, too short for the long limbs, reached 
to the tops of a pair of very muddy shoes. 

“Miss Fay and girls!” said Uncle Silas 
from the doorway, “I want to make you ac- 
quainted with my nephy from Lost Point.” 

Miss Rose went forward and put out her 
hand graciously. 


96 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“How do you do?” she said. Then — “girls 
this is — ” 

“Silas Junior;” Uncle Silas added shak- 
ing with delighted laughter. 

Jane mustered up courage and followed 
Miss Rose’s example but the others made only 
a faint recognition of the introduction. 

“Ain’t they glad to see me?” The hoy 
asked turning to Silas: “That one over 
there he pointed to Sylvia, “don’t look espe- 
cially — welcoming. ’ ’ 

Sylvia flushed and Miss Rose hastily said: 
“You and your nephew come in, Uncle Silas. 
We’re going to sing.” Something had to be 
done and the ideal of good breeding at Comp- 
ton Corners was at stake. There in the little 
New England town, every native was as good 
as any one else — unless he was a little better 
and Uncle Silas must not find them of the 
Camp Brave Pine lacking. 

The little group around the piano began to 
sing. They began with a pretty ballad or two 
and then ran into college songs and some topi- 
cal pieces of the day. They sang nervously 
and excitedly and Jane Trevor displayed a 
tendency to laugh hysterically which became 


SILAS JUNIOR 


97 


more and more alarming. Uncle Silas, in the 
best rocker and his working clothes was quite 
at his ease and tapped the floor with his big 
foot contentedly. 

“Ain’t they gz’and!” whispered Silas Junior 
in a tone perfectly heard by every one. “What 
they dressed to kill for?” 

“Larks!” Uncle Silas replied in a muffled 
tone; “larking all the time. Made that way.” 

And then Junior got up and joined the 
group by the piano which contracted around 
Miss Rose at his advance. 

“Ain’t got any too good manners have you?” 
the boy asked Sylvia, thrusting something in- 
to her hand. 

Sylvia stopped singing and looked afifright- 
edly at the package — ^it was — her evening 
mail ! 

And then before she could speak or move 
Miss Rose started the dear familiar song of 
their camp. 


‘*De day is pas’ and gone, en what is done am done — 
Ef yo’ ain’ done yo’ bes’ you’ll be de Suf-frin’ one; 
Ole Time jes goes along en never kin turn back — ” 


Suddenly Junior joined in — 


98 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“O Mammy Moon, please keep ■watch until de mornin' 
Light — ” 

Startled and alarmed, Miss Rose turned on 
the piano stool and faced — Nancy Mowbray! 

For a moment blank surprise held the group 
silent, then Uncle Silas roared with laughter. 

“I swan!” he sputtered through his peals, 
“when she nigh upsot me by plumping inter 
me in the kitchen I didn’t guess ; but when she 
explained herself I just had to help along. 
Ain’t she a likely nephy, though?” 

“Nancy!” And then in spite of herself, 
Miss Rose laughed. “I never suspected you.” 

“It’s my party dress!” Nancy gavotted 
around. “Come on, Meggie, now for a two- 
step.” 

The others did not rally from their shock 
so easily and it took them some time to re- 
cover themselves. 

The rest of the evening however went oflF 
in a gale of fun and laughter. Silas Junior 
made himself agreeable to every one and Silas 
in the rocker enjoyed himself to the full. 
Candy was made on the fire and games were 
played and it was after ten when the party 
broke up. 


SILAS JUNIOR 


99 


"Did you see any one drop from the piazza 
roof? Sylvia asked Jane on the way up to the 
wigwams. 

“Yes — but it was a joke, too,” Jane giggled. 

“Well,” Sylvia tossed her head; “this party 
proves what I said at supper, even a make be- 
lieve boy like Silas Junior, adds to the fun.” 

After the others were asleep Miss Rose tip- 
toed to Nancy Mowbray’s door. 

“Nancy?” she whispered. 

“Come right in Hiatini. I knew you’d 
come. Here, sit on the bed — I won’t be bad 
any more.” 

“Nan, dear, I do not mean to scold and you 
are very comical and made much fun for us all 
— but dear, you 'will be careful, won’t you? 
I’m so anxious to make this summer a success. 
You all look so fine and well and I am sure it 
is doing us good and I want the home-people 
to approve. You’ll — be careful?” 

“Now, Hiatini, you are afraid of me! You 
do not wholly trust me, but please try to be- 
lieve that my circumference of fun is sharply 
defined. I know my limits!” 

“But Uncle Silas, Nan! He thought it so 
funny that he will tell every one.” 


100 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Never mind, dear Miss Rose, he’ll temper 
it with mercy and I will be careful, ’Deed 
and ’deed I will, but you won’t forbid my party 
dress.” 

“No, Nan, but — remember! And now kiss 
me you dear funny child — you Nameless One!” 


CHAPTER VI 

AN ADVENTUEE FOE SYLVIA 

It was one of the laws of the camp that 
two girls should supply all the necessaries each 
week; food and other things and alphabetic- 
ally they took turns. Miss Rose was always 
—“ex officio.” 

It was simply marvelous how far Margaret 
Lee and Jane Trevor could make the twenty- 
four dollars go — for each one put in four — and 
to see how little Sylvia Dean and Joy Deer- 
ing could do with the same amount. 

“There are certain things to be done,” Miss 
Rose had explained with, what Nancy called, 
her “cast-iron look,” “and they must be done. 
Allowing for learning, every one of you must 
come up to the mark in time. Margaret has 
had much experience but she is practical and 
what one girl can do another equally intelli- 
gent can do also — within certain limitations.” 

And so they lived up to Margaret. 

There was the laundry work. By sheer 
101 


102 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


force of mentality Unele Silas induced Mercy 
Flanders of The Corners, to undertake it. 

“They must fetch it and take it!” Mercy had 
stipulated. “I may be poor, but I come of the 
best and I ain’t going to do no fetching and 
carrying for nobody!” Mercy cried easily 
and had “feelings” highly developed but she 
could “wash and iron you with the best” and 
she was very poor. 

“As to fetching and carrying,” Uncle Silas 
said, “I’ll tend to that. Name your price, 
Mercy.” 

“Well, how would fifty cents apiece do?” 

“A piece — what?” Silas demanded. 

“A gal.” 

“Gosh. There’s a difference ’twixt them,” 
Silas explained. “Two of ’em might have 
double what all the others have. They warn’t 
born free and equal though little Miss Fay is 
leveling them off good and proper. Now, 
Mercy, this is the offer I has to make from 
headquarters. Will you take ’em and wash 
and iron ’em for five dollars a week, they find- 
ing starch and soap; you finding water and 
tubs; me doing the hauling? Five dollars a 
week is more ’n twenty dollars a month and 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA 103 


you know they’re going to stay on ’til Sep- 
tember 20th. Now counting that up from 
July 1st it comes nigh on to fifty dollars and 
findings. With winter facing you, Mercy, 
and your feelings to be considered it ain’t an 
offer to sneeze at.” 

Mercy considered. 

“But they may pile on flim-flams,” she said. 
“I ain’t strong on fussy fol-de-rols, and sich.” 

“They’ll be reasonable!” Silas replied, “and 
when you’re getting your living, Mercy, you 
got to take some risks.” 

So the laundry was arranged for, and the 
rest, the girls and Miss Rose did for them- 
selves. All that they accomplished was con- 
sidered as “honors” and the glory piled up as 
necessity lashed them forward. 

The “stars” added to each girl’s name in 
the books she faithfully kept were becoming 
numerous and inspiring. 

“Some of them are too easy,” Jane Trevor 
said one day. 

“Not having a cold for two months — fancy 
having a cold up here!” 

“But you were always suffering before you 
came,” Joy broke in. 


104 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“There and here, are altogether different.” 

“Mrs. Allen’s cooking classes have brought 
me up,” said Nancy. 

“And us, too!” laughed Miss Rose. 

“I’ve made a household invention!” an- 
nounced Margaret; “I’ve rigged up a pulley 
system in the well. We can keep four differ- 
ent things down there at a time. There’s a 
different colored string for each article. Yel- 
low for butter, blue for milk, red for lettuce 
and white for cream. 

“It wouldn’t work at night,” said Margaret 
practically, “and besides that’s an outdoor in- 
vention.” 

“Well, anyway,” Nancy broke in, “we’re 
getting honors to burn and now that it is my 
week to serve you all, I trust I may make 
both ends meet and get a constellation. Who 
helps me, Hiatini?” 

“Sylvia, Nan. She’s served once with 
Joy and she can share her experience.” 

“It was a doleful one,” Sylvia said. “It was 
the accounts that nearly finished me. Joy, do 
you remember?” 

“Do I?” Joy groaned. 

“Let’s tell them,” Sylvia suddenly ex- 
claimed. “It’s too good to keep.” 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA 


105 


“You may if you want to; I couldn’t do it 
justice.” 

So Sylvia began and it was something of a 
triumph for her to own up to any short-com- 
ing. 

“It was this way. Joy and I took pad and 
pencil and figured it all out even to items. 
Laundry work so much, food, oil, and — things 
and then we added up. It came to six dollars 
more than we had. We were horror stricken. 
I wanted to make it up. I knew Grandfather 
wouldn’t mind, but Joy insisted that I keep 
to the bargain; she said she wasn’t going to 
let me pauperize you all — that’s just what she 
said. We worked over that list with the per- 
spiration dripping from our faces; we hardly 
slept all one night. We couldn’t see how it 
could have happened ; we’d had about the same 
things to eat and I had shopped carefully and 
then we found out — we’d counted up wrong! 
We’d spent all we had but not a cent more!” 

“It all came,” Joy added, “from my count- 
ing without my fingers. I’ll never do it again. 
If I can use my fingers I never make a mis- 
take. Fingers were made before accounts 
anyway and they ought to be used.” 


106 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Well,” Miss Rose said, “this week is in 
your care, Sylvia, and Nancy’s fingers and 
wits must help you out. You two may plot 
and plan when and how you choose, the rest of 
us are going for a cross country run and I 
warn you we will bring home ferocious appe- 
tites. Beware!” 

At nine o’clock, with all the work singingly 
performed and the others off for their run, 
Nancy and Sylvia went to the arbor overlook- 
ing the sunny meadow and took counsel to- 
gether. 

“I suppose,” said Sylvia with a little sigh, 
“that if you go for potatoes you will have an 
adventure. You always do. I will just grub 
along through the week and get nothing 
but—” 

“Grub put of it!” Nancy broke in with her 
eyes dancing. Then : 

“Sylvy, do you know I never saw any one 
more improved than you are. You look real 
girly at times now and not a bit fussy and up- 
perty.” 

“My waist is two inches larger!” groaned 
Sylvia. 

“All the better for breathing.” 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA lOT 


“But I’ll look a fright when I go back!” 
Sylvia made a comical grimace. 

“You’ll be stunning and so human,” Nancy 
comforted. “By the way, Sylvy, isn’t it queer 
how Sally Temple hovers around you? You 
seem to have a frantic fascination for her.” 

“I don’t like her — ” Sylvia admitted. “She 
makes me creepy. I cannot get the idea out 
of my head that she’s caught hold of me some- 
how and I cannot get away. Her eyes are al- 
ways on me when she is here and sometimes 
when I am alone I fancy that she is hiding and 
peeping — it’s quite awful.” 

“Silly! Silly!” Nancy laughed merrily — 
“Silly Sylvy! Now let us get to facts. 
What shall we have for dinner to-day?” 

“What can we afford?” Sylvia drew down 
her mouth. “I know what I’d like to have.” 

“Don’t you dare!” warned Nancy tapping 
Sylvia’s cunning little nose with her lead pen- 
cil. “How about corned beef and cabbage 
— a real biled dinner?” 

“Nancy, how can you? You are awfully 
— vulgar and dear!” Sylvia leaned over and 
touched Nancy’s round, brown cheek with her 
lips. “You’re such a Nancyish Nancy.” 


108 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“The best of my plan is,” Nancy went on, 
“the things are all in the house. Uncle Silas 
brought the meat up last evening and there 
are cabbages and carrots and potatoes and — 
and — and — ” 

“Water,” suggested Sylvia. 

“Yes. Water and fire in the kitchen. 
Sylvia, let us be above mere groveling. Let’s 
put the mess in the pot, set the table and have 
everything ready and then sally forth to view 
the scenes of nature and incidentally bargain 
for things for the rest of the week. Buying in 
small quantities — ” Nancy took on a look of 
superhuman wisdom, “is folly. All the lead- 
ing articles in the journals say so; not to men- 
tion Mrs. Borer on the subject. I’m going 
to lay in — hoards.” 

“Oh!” shuddered Sylvia, “I do so hate — 
hoards! You’ll have the same thing every 
day.” 

“Don’t you believe it! I’m nothing if not 
original. To-day — biled dinner! To-morrow 
— Glorified Hash — croquettes! Next day a 
bran new piece of meat in the form of — fish! 
We’ll arrange for them to-day. As for vege- 
tables we’ll stock up and then you and I will 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA 109 


— give our souls a chance to grow!” Nancy 
grinned impishly. “I never knew you had a 
soul before, Sylvy, dear. In town you were 
like a creature in the fashion book where you 
have to look on the last page to find how the 
back of you fits the front. Now^ you are real 
interesting.” 

“Thank you, Nancy.” 

“Welcome, child! And now listen, dear. 
Will you go down across the meadow, follow 
the brook through the woods until you come 
to the house of a man — Jim Naylor, by name, 
who peddles fish, and ask him to peddle some 
up here day after to-morrow? Strike a hard 
bargain with him and tell him well take little 
fishes for our little dishes once a week. Per- 
manents always count — transients — never!” 

“Can’t we go together?” Sylvia asked. 

“No, you tend to the live stock. I’ll round 
up the green stuff. We’ll both be back at 
noon; dinner at one will be in order. I mean 
to get some fun out of this week. After to- 
day you and I can do as we jolly well please 
and set an example. Hustle, Sylvy! I’ll 
build up the fire if you haul the food materials 
to the kitchen.” 


110 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“I just wish we could go together on the 
hunt,” Sylvia persisted. “We’d have no end 
of fun and adventure — besides I’m afraid to 
go alone!” 

“Fie! fie!” Nancy was on her way to the 
house. 

“It’s not proper to have adventures and 
there’s nothing to hurt you in the woods hut 
mosquitoes — take along some oil of penny 
royal. Besides after to-day you and I will be 
able to — ^have a perfectly gorgeous romp and 
I have some plans.” 

So the vegetables were prepared and placed 
over a “slow fire” — there was coal for such 
emergencies as this and everything was left 
in order for the noonday meal. The big pot 
would steam and bubble safely and when 
everything was arranged the two girls parted 
to do their tasks. 

Nancy went down to the village to consult 
Pa Temple as to wholesale prices for provi- 
sions and Sylvia took to the stream side to 
find the house of “a man — Jim Naylor” — and 
contract for fish once a week. 

“It’s pretty tame work after Nan,” Sylvia 
whispered to herself as she wandered on alone ; 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA 111 


“and besides how am I to know Jim Naylor’s 
house? I suppose there are other houses be- 
tween this and — and^ — the place where the 
hrook runs into the ocean.” Then she went 
along singing happily to herself. Sylvia never 
used to sing in the old days except at her sing- 
ing lesson or for company; and now she sang 
as the birds sang — ^because she could not help 
it. And it was always, in these days, the dear 
Camp songs. 

“Better run away, better run away. 

Pretty little maiden, run away. 

When the woods are black as night — ” 

Sylvia had entered the forest by now. 

“That’s the Boo-ga-man’s delight. 

Better run away, better run away!” 

There is nothing more fascinating than fol- 
lowing a river or brook upon its course. The 
lure of the road is great, but the uncertainty 
about the winding of a pretty stream is charm- 
ing. Sylvia tripped along sometimes jump- 
ing from stone to stone where the stream was 
shallow, quite losing sight of which side of the 
brook she was and never thinking to consider 


112 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


that Jim Naylor’s house might be on the 
“other side.” The spirit of the open was upon 
her; she had never been so well and care free 
in her life. Nonsense and frivolity seemed to 
have slipped from her and she was “one nice 
little girl,” as Nancy was at that very moment 
thinking. 

As she climbed over a fallen log and 
mounted a little hill, Sylvia was thinking of a 
letter she had received from her Grandfather 
the night before — it was a letter to make her 
sing a bit more gladly now. 

“Little Granddaughter: 

“I have sometimes feared that I who love 
you most in all the world might be the cause 
of making you less than you should be — I and 
the money! You see when a foolish old man 
has a dear little helpless, motherless and 
fatherless girl on his hands, he tries to make up 
to her for what she has lost and sometimes he 
makes a mistake. Now that the danger is 
over I will tell you that a time back I feared 
I had lost my little girl in a nondescript kind 
of creature, half child, half woman, but Miss 
Rose with her tact and helpfulness has saved 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA 113 


the day. She tells me that you are happy and 
— ‘fit in beautifully’ — you will see the ‘better 
part/ my dear child, and come home to teach 
your old' Grandfather a lesson in common 
sense. 

“Judge Conly and I are having a real old- 
boy time and he has told me a good deal about 
that brave little stenographer of his. Make 
friends with her. She is a worth while girl 
and my dear, be the girl and woman your 
mother would have made of you; I’d hate to 
have her blame me by and by for spoiling a 
perfectly good baby!” 

Sylvia’s eyes grew dim — happily dim — as 
she recalled the letter and sang away. 

“I’m going to be — better!” she whispered. 
“It’s living and working with such girls that 
helps. You see yourself just as you see the 
outside of yourself in one of those many-sided 
mirrors. Nancy laughs at me and sniffs at 
money; Joy imitates me and makes me 
ashamed of myself — Jane just lifts me up be- 
side her and dear old Meg — gets down beside 
me and cheers me; Miss Rose is — ” 

And then “Better run away, pretty maiden;” 


114 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


ceased suddenly for Sylvia had come upon a 
small house and garden by the stream side, 
and she concluded that she had reached Jim 
Naylor’s. 

Up she went right bravely to the door and 
knocked timidly. No answer came. The 
house was ramshackle and down at the heel, 
but, the garden was nice and there was a fine 
view. Sylvia took the view in and then 
knocked again at the kitchen door. 

“Oh! come off, where’s your night key? 
Run in and stop your racket! What you try- 
ing to do — disturb nature?” 

Evidently Jim Naylor was a “character.” 
Sylvia was getting used to characters since 
Uncle Silas had explained himself. Half 
afraid, but seeking to live up to her name. The 
Dauntless lifted the latch and walked in. 

The big sunny kitchen rather dazzled her for 
a moment, for the quiet and dimness of the 
woods were still upon her. 

“Great jumping Toads!” And then Syl- 
via sprang back. 

Beside a broad table by the window stood 
a tall handsome fellow with an enormous and 
very much spattered apron tied around him. 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA 115 


He was elbow deep in flour and dough and 
around him and on the stove were evidences 
of his culinary art. 

“Piping Simmons!” ejaculated the cook. 
“Flying fishes !” 

This last recalled amazed Sylvia to her 
senses. Open-eyed and half terrified; half 
amused, she asked faintly: 

“Are — are — you — Jim?” The last name 

for the life of her she could not recall. 

“I — sure am! Otherwise known as Jago.” 

“Jago — that doesn’t sound like the name 
Nancy said.” 

“Then Nancy was all off. Jago is cor- 
rect.” 

“You — you — have fish?” 

“Occasionally.” The cook had completed 
his last loaf of bread and was struggling with 
the button of the big apron. 

“Could you — peddle some up to us once a 
week?” 

“Gee whiz!” exclaimed the big fellow, red 
in the face and making noble efforts to get 
the apron over his head since the button clung 
to the buttonhole like grim death. 

“Could — I help you out of the — the apron?” 


116 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Sylvia shyly offered — “girls are — are quicker 
about such things.” 

“Get me out of this mess,” said the young 
fellow coming toward her; “and I’ll consider 
about peddling fish and any other confounded 
thing you want.” 

“There!” Sylvia set him free and they faced 
each other with laughing eyes. Jago was cer- 
tainly a good looking fellow — Sylvia was go- 
ing to think “for one of his class,” but she 
smothered the think. 

“Now what kind of fish do you want me to 
peddle and to where do you want it peddled?” 

This was coming to business with a venge- 
ance. It sobered Sylvia at once. 

“Well, I do not think we care what kind so 
long as it is fish. We want it once a week; 
we’re permanenters, not transients, and we’re 
very fond of fish — all kinds.” 

Jim was superhumanly grave. 

“May I ask — the name and place?” 

“Well — Miss Rose Fay is the — the head of 
the house, but we girls take weeks-about-turn. 
Nancy and I are providing this week— we’re 
living on the hill — in a little gray house — we’re 
summering — a kind of camp — we call it Camp 
Brave Pine.” 




OFFQUBD 


CAN I HELP YOU WITH THE-^ 
THE APRON? SYLVIA 




V 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA 117 


And now Jim sat down upon a wooden chair 
and mopped his brow with his still-be-floured 
hand. The gesture left a sticky paste in his 
hair. Again Sylvia had an insane desire to 
laugh, but propriety restrained her. 

“Well Miss — ” Jim paused. 

“Dean,” Sylvia supplied. 

“Well, Miss Dean, I’ll try to get fish to you 
once a week if I have to — have to travel up 
or down to Boston to get it.” 

“Oh, please do not take so much trouble. 
I am sure Nancy thought you caught fish right 
in the brook without the slightest effort — be- 
sides don’t you peddle for — for — a profes- 
sion?” 

At this human nature gave way and Jim 
roared lustily, throwing back his big hand- 
, some head until it knocked against the wall 
merrily. Sylvia was appalled and shrank back 
and out to the porch. 

“Forgive me!” exclaimed Jim, presently 
Vviping his eyes and thus making more sticky 
marks on his features. He looked so comical 
and Sylvia was so nervous that from sheer in- 
ability to control herself she joined in the 
laugh. 


118 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Please pardon me!” said Jim; “but I was 
thinking of — ” 

“Of what?” Sylvia tried to look dignified. 

“Oh! great Scots! Of old Woe, Sporty 
and Goo !” 

“Who?” 

And then Sylvia went off into another peal 
for this sounded like poetry. 

“My — partners. The other peddlers — 
Woe, Sporty and Goo.” 

“They — are they dogs?” ventured Sylvia and 
again came Jim’s lusty guffaw and the head 
knocking against the wall. 

“Dogs! Oh! by ye flying fishes!” 

By this time Sylvia had herself in hand. 
She began to think that Jim was crazy and 
a fear entered her mind. She was far from 
help and she was tired. 

“Good-by!” she cried suddenly. “Do you 
know where to come — with your fish?” 

“Sure thing. Miss Dean, and you’ll have 
your fish. I may bring my dogs to see you, 
too. They’re thoroughbreds — they are fine 
fishers. Good morning!” 

Sylvia fled from the house and never stopped 
to look back until the sound of Jim’s laughter 


AN ADVENTURE FOR SYLVIA 119 


had ceased; then she sat down upon a log and 
wiped her perspiring face, 

“I’ve had — an adventure!” she whispered 
over and over, “a real live adventure ! 
But my goodness! many of them would end 
me in a sanatorium. What an awful crea- 
ture he was. So impolite and — and noisy. 
I hate that sort of fellow — ^but he wasn’t bad 
looking; only wild and flighty.” 


CHAPTER VII 

THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 

The Knights of the Round Table had fin- 
ished their evening meal, cleared away the few 
scattered remnants that had been used as mis- 
siles, and now sat around the board under the 
hanging lamp and enjoyed themselves after 
their individual tastes. 

Jimmy Nichols with a twinkle in his eyes 
and a suggestion of laugh in his big, boyish 
voice tilted his chair back, clasped his hands 
behind his head and ruminated. 

The Knight of the Woeful Countenance, 
Tom Olney in real life — Woe for brevity — 
leaned with his arms upon the table, reading, 
or trying to read, a manuscript spread out be- 
fore him. 

Tod Nilson — ^better known as Sporty — sat in 
the only rocker the room afforded, in front of 
the open fire with his faithful dog Danny rest- 
ing at his feet. 

Paul Thornton — lagoo — Goo for private 
120 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


121 


use, lay full length upon a home made couch 
on the far side of the room and emitted a groan 
now and again, which no one appeared to no- 
tice. 

Outside, the rain poured dismally and an 
occasional gust of wind shook the ramshackle 
house. 

“Woe!” cried Jago suddenly, “did you put 
anything under that leak in the roof upstairs?” 

“I did,” Woe replied looking up from his 
reading, “I put Sport’s hed under it!” 

“Thunder!” ejaculated Sporty rushing 
from the room with Danny at his heels barking 
as if his life depended upon it. 

“This fire,” Woe remarked after Sporty 
had disappeared, “has a nasty disagreeable 
temper. It spits and fiares out disgracefully. 
Jago, I fear you did not live worthily to-day, 
while you were in command. The dinner was 
high art, but the firewood was gathered, me- 
thinks, from the bottom of the brook.” 

But Jago paid no heed and Woe turned 
again to his written pages which were the lat- 
est effusion of Goo, the boaster and story 
teller, of the Round Table Camp. 

Presently Sport came back and took his seat 
by the fire. 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


122 


“When Woe jokes,” he murmured gently, 
“he lies. When I joke I deal with reality. 
Woe’s bed now receives the gentle rain from 
heaven upon its immaculate spread.” 

“Gee!” Woe sprang from his seat, scatter- 
ing the precious sheets right and left upon the 
floor. “If I could not be original. Sport, I’d 
remain stupid.” A moment later a thunder- 
ing noise overhead made known the fact that 
Sport’s joke was being repaired to the best of 
Woe’s ability. 

Goo, tragically picked up his wide spread 
manuscript and growled as he did so, “Nice 
way to treat a fellow’s best work!” 

“Goo,” Jago solemnly proclaimed, “if your 
thoughts are spread as rapidly as that in the 
future you’ll score a success. What’s the line 
you’ve taken in this here bust of fancy?” 

Sporty roared with mirthless laughter and 
Woe just then returning remarked quietly: 

“He’s all right! The yarn’s all right, too. 
Real atfecting and hair raising. I say. Woe, 
let’s have a little of it aloud.” 

“How about the gentle rain from heaven?” 
Jago asked. 

“I’ve opened an umbrella under it.” 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


1^3 


“Great jumping frogs!” and with this Jago 
tore upstairs. 

When he came back he relieved every one 
by saying that he had stuffed Sport’s dress 
suit in the hole of the roof and that would 
probably keep out the wettest of the rain. 

The high moral standing of the boys was 
exemplified by the belief they had in one an- 
other. Sporty ejaculated “Great Mars!” and 
again fled with Danny baying at his heels. 

“You’re a nice one!” he said to Jago when 
once more he entered the room; “do you know 
what you did put in that darned hole?” 

“It wasn’t darned — it was a plain hole,” 
Jago flung back. 

“Well, it wasn’t my dress suit,” Sporty 
laughed, sinking into his seat, “it was Goo’s 
mackintosh.” 

“You can’t feaze me,” Goo jeeringly re- 
torted, “and if it is, the punishment will fit the 
crime. My macky is not rainproof — it’s a 
linen duster coated with gum!” 

“Anyway,” Woe said, “the rain’s letting up 
and a good thing! A few days of this and I’d 
chuck it. Cooking for this crowd and satisfy- 
ing your critical tastes is bad enough without 
rain. Fellows, this is Tuesday!” 


124 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“You don’t mean it!” Jago sniffed. “What 
do you think we thought it was — Sunday?” 

“I forgot to tell you,” he suddenly added, 
“we’ve got to get a mess of fish by to-morrow 
if we have to go to Marblehead to get ’em !” 

“What’s up?” asked Goo; “beginning to 
feel the need of brain food, Jago?” 

“And we’ve got to make believe peddle 
them, too,” Jago went on without noticing 
the insinuation. At this the company stood 
“at attention.” Something was doing! It 
took Jago to lead one to adventure. “You 
know that camp of girls up on the hill two 
miles above The Corners?” 

Interest became tense. 

“One of them was over here yesterday and 
ordered a mess of fish for every Wednesday 
from now on.” 

“What do they take us for?” Sporty in- 
dignantly asked. 

“Jimmy, a fishmonger, and some dogs!” 
Jago replied calmly. 

The boys were crowded close together now 
at Jago’s side of the table. 

“Come on!” said Woe, “what you giving us 
and why didn’t you give it to us before?” 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


125 


Jago flung his head back and laughed. 

“It was ‘on me’ too thick yesterday, and I 
had to digest it. Ever since we sent that 
hamper up to the hill with grub, thinking 
there was a ‘Fresh Air Party’ camping out, 
I’ve felt pretty sore. The loss of the hamper 
— it was a perfectly good one, was bad enough, 
but the knowledge that the party wasn’t a 
charity fresh airer, has eaten into my vitals. 
I’ve rather hoped we’d steer clear of the lot; 
but Fate has decreed that our paths cross — 
one of the crowd actually — ” Jago paused — 
“caught me bread-making yesterday! Dough 
to right and left of me. Dough underfoot 
' and on top of me. Dough in my hair, dough 
in my eyes, and Goo’s mother’s gingham 
nightmare covering my person!” 

“Great Scots!” breathed Woe in genuine 
sympathy. “What did she do?” 

“Unbuttoned it — the nightmare! Ex- 
tricated me from the thraldom of service — 
set me free! Made a man of me again!” 

The three listeners danced around in a de- 
lirium of mirth. 

“We do not want girls in this wild summer 
— but it looks, Jago, as if they were to he 


126 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


forced upon us.” Sporty, in an access of ex- 
citement, was putting Danny through his 
paces. 

“Bow to the ladies, Dan! Now, shake 
hands! Speak! Be dead dog! Shoulder — ” 

“Shut up. Sport! What did the invader 
do, Jago? How did she look?” Goo had 
forgotten his precious manuscript. 

“A light, slight, trifle.” Jago looked 
reminiscent. “Fluffy hair, and freckled nose. 
Brown skirt and white waist; big, flappy hat, 
and a Lady Clara- Vere-de-Vere air! A 
princess in the rough! A society bubble try- 
ing to make good.” 

“Good night, Danny — By-by!” 

“And she — wants — fish? This goddess of 
the freckles and fluff?” Goo was hanging on 
Jago’s words. 

“She does!” And then Jago went on with 
the story from start to finish, “and here’s my 
plan or plot,” he went on. “That little kid 
doubtless took me for the old guy, Jim Naylor, 
down the brook. Now if Naylor can catch 
fish, why not we? What Naylor has done, 
the Knights of the Round Table can do. 
We’ll go to Naylor this evening and wrench 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


127 


his secret from him, we’ll get fish or 
die. What are knights for but to succor 
maidens in distress? If those girls on the 
hill want fish once a week, it’s up to us 
to feed them on little fishes. What are we 
here for but to do and dare — besides there 
may be some fun looming ahead, and I 
don’t know how you all feel, but I was begin- 
ning to realize that a one-sex vacation is not 
what it is cracked up to be. A fellow with a 
good mother and sisters — not to mention a 
peach of a grandmother, knows the value of 
girls.” 

“Here! here!” came in a chorus. 

“But where do the dogs come in, Jago?” 
Goo asked. 

“Well, not to put too fine a point upon it,” 
Jago replied, “you all are the dogs.” 

“Oh! flip him one on the left ear. Goo!” 
Sporty cried. 

“I mentioned your names. Goo, Sporty 
and Woe, and she thought they sounded 
doggy. We’ll go up in a body with the fish 
and dispel the dream. The reality may be 
shocking, but we’ll see. Now, who’s for Jim 
Naylor’s?” 


128 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Every one including Danny was ready. 
Rubber boots and oil coats and hats were 
brought forth and in five minutes four tall, 
broad-shouldered fellows were plowing their 
way through the mud to the home of Jim 
Naylor. 

And while all this was going on, at the Camp 
Brave Pine the girls were having a cere- 
monial evening. The rain prevented an out- 
door fire but the dampness and coolness made 
the living room fire very welcome. IMary and 
Sally were present, and every one was in full 
regalia. 

Fortunately the extra supply of suits that 
Miss Rose had brought along had served to 
supply the need of Sally and Mary. 

The room was dark, but for the freshly 
lighted fire when the members entered. Can- 
dles were to be used and tall white ones in 
old brass candlesticks stood on the table. 
Around these candles the girls formed a circle. 
Then Miss Rose lighted a taper and handed 
it to Sylvia. 

“Make, work, shine for us, dear,” she said; 
“you have made such good progress in that.” 

Sylvia flushed prettily through her tan as 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


129 


she stepped from the circle and lighted the 
tall candle, repeating as she did so: 

“Wohelo means work. 

We glorify work because through work we are free. 

We work to win^ to conquer^ to be masters. 

We work for the joy of working and because we are 
free.” 

And then Jane took the taper and lighted 
the second candle. Her little face was quite 
grave, but color and roundness had touched 
her cheeks. 

‘'I light the light of Health, for Wohelo means health. 
We hold on to health, because through health we serve 
and are happy. In caring for the health and beauty 
of our persons, we are caring for the very shrine of the 
Great Spirit.” 

And then Margaret took the taper. Her 
sweet, good face beamed under the band of 
beads, which encircled her head; her long dark 
hair hung free and her kind voice had a real 
thrill in it, as she said : 

“Wohelo means Love. 

We love for love is life and light and joy and sweetness. 
And love is comradeship and motherhood and fatherhood 
and all dear kinship. 

Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.” 


130 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


The third candle burst into a flame so 
strong and high that every eye was upon it — 
all but the eyes of Sylvia and Sally Temple. 
They were looking into each other’s! Sally 
never could keep her gaze long from Sylvia’s 
face when they were together and yet neither 
liking nor sympathy held them. 

With the -candles casting their small beams 
from the table, on which stood some good home 
made cakes and pitchers of lemonade, the 
girls turned to the open fire which by now was 
a red homy affair without a vestige of the 
ill-temper that was displayed by another fire 
not far away! 

Roll was called and each girl responded 
promptly and joyously, as she crouched on 
the hearth. Then they told of deeds per- 
formed that would bring honor beads. Mary 
had learned a long poem and was in ecstasies 
for her memory was her weak point and she 
was strengthening it day by day. 

“While I work, if I ain’t singing,” she ex- 
plained, “I am learning things. I found this 
in an old book in the minister’s study. He 
lets me go there to hunt for pieces and books 
and I dust the room to pay him.” 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


131 


“Why, Mary,” exclaimed Miss Rose, “you 
are going ahead by leaps’ and bounds. And 
what is the poem, dear?” 

In her Indian dress poor, plain, little Mary 
was really picturesque, and her face was be- 
coming serious, thoughtful and happy. The 
moody look was rarely seen now and she was 
proud of her nicely brushed hair and well- 
kept nails. She had learned that her body 
was the “very shrine of the Great Spirit,” and, 
with all her might and main, she was trying to 
make it worthy. With clasped hands and 
face upturned to Miss Rose, Mary repeated: 


‘‘Say not the struggle nought availeth 
The labor and the wounds are vain^ 

The enemy faints not, nor faileth, 

And as things have been they remain. 

“If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars 
It may be, in yon smoke concealed. 

Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers. 

And but for you, possess the field.” 

“I haven’t learned the other verses well 
enough to say them to-night, Hiatini, but I’m 
going to! And I know what it means — ” the 
girl’s eyes shone. “It just means that no 


132 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


one dares to stop fighting, for he might be 
making others lose the battle. The minister 
is going to preach a sermon about it Sunday. 
He speaks real beautiful about it.” 

“We’ll go in a body!” said Miss Rose. 
“I’d like to hear that sermon, and really we’ve 
been rather lazy about going to church. The 
people need us and we need them. Sally — 
and by the way, girls, we must decide upon 
names for our new members to-night — Sally, 
what have you brought to the Council Fire?” 

Sally blushed crimson, and her eyes sought 
Nancy’s for courage. 

“Something of my own!” she faltered; 
“something I made up.” 

“Lovely,” cried Jane. “This is a treat.” 

Nancy put her hand out and laid it upon 
Sally’s. The comfort from the strong clasp 
gave Sally strength and, very quietly, she re- 
cited: 


‘‘The camp fire is so dear to me ! 

It teaches me to play and work, 
To see the brightest side of life, 

To do my duty and never shirk. 

To seek for beauty and give my best. 
To pursue knowledge all my days. 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


IS3 


To be trustworthy and hold to health 
And glorify work in all ways. 

“Last but not least, to be happy. 

And make others happy, too. 

To be cheerful, kind and loving. 

And be happy through and through. 
The most sacred of all is the symbol 
Of the fire in days of old. 

How it protected my pilgrim fathers 
From bitter death and cold.” * 


Sally paused and dropped her eyes. A 
silence followed, for every girl was thinking 
— about Sally. 

“Pa — he — he was real pleased with the 
poem.” Sally felt the weight of the silence. 
“He knows I am trying. Ma gets dis- 
couraged with me. I don’t act like I was made 
over, she says, and I ain’t, but I am trying, 
and this camp does mean them things I have 
written — way down in the best of me!” 

“Why, dear child!” said Miss Rose, “you 
have brought us a great help to-night. I can 
hardly tell you how deeply I feel about it.” 

“And some day,” Nancy broke in, “Sally’s 
going to thunder down the Hall of Fame as 


A real Camp Fire Girl’s verses. 


134 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


a writer. I feel the divine spark in her. I 
see it just flaming into glory. Sally, in the 
day of your victory — claim me as your dis- 
coverer and friend!” 

Nancy always touched the happy chord and 
a gay laugh set every one at ease. 

“Swift Foot!” 

Margaret arose in her slow fashion and 
looked around at the bright faces. 

“I know you will laugh,” she said, “and I 
hope you will, but I borrowed Nancy’s — Silas- 
Junior-suit and, by the dark of the moon, 
I’ve been practicing jumping and running — 
I can scale two bars of the meadow fence with- 
out touching a splinter!” 

“And no earthly eye to witness?” Naney 
asked. 

“Not an eye! I am growing limber and 
supple,” Margaret expanded her chest; 
“getting rapid in my movements will follow 
later.” She gave her dear smile. “I think my 
head was tired before I eame, I thought slow 
and now — why now my wits are nimble, 
almost as nimble as Nancy’s.” 

Miss Rose reaehed out a sympathetie hand. 
She loved all her girls, but the patient, sweet 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


135 


Margaret was nearer than all the others. 
She knew the laborious thought that was given 
to the widowed mother and little brothers 
and sisters; she knew the foregone hope of 
college, when the money vanished upon the 
father’s death; she knew the hours of sewing 
and the teaching of the younger children, 
while the brave, gentle spirit never flagged, 
but cheerfully assumed burden after burden. 
This hard-won vacation had only been ac- 
cepted because the rest of the family had had 
the opportunity of taking a cottage, lent to 
them by an old friend of Mrs. Lee, at the 
ocean. 

“How can we keep house down there with- 
out Margaret to plan for us?” the mother 
had asked, but Miss Rose pleaded for a few 
months’ change for Margaret, and it had been 
granted. 

“Swift Foot, tired wits make heavy feet, 
but a light heart makes every one of us love 
you and honor you.” 

There were tears in Miss Rose’s eyes. 

A war whoop filled the dim room and Joy 
Deering, of all people, leaned forward and 
put a nice smelly pine log on the fire without 
being asked to do so. 


136 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Singing Cricket!” Jane stood up. 

“I am going to sing a song, but before that 
I am going to tell you a secret. One day 
when I was learning to make cookies down 
at Mrs. Allen’s, the minister came in, Mr. 
Fleming, you know, and he said that he wanted 
some young girls to sing in his choir — he was 
going to train them. He urged me to join; 
he said the village girls would be glad to have 
me. I’ve been twice — I told you all I was 
going for a walk and wanted to be alone, 
but I went there and — next Sunday I am go- 
ing to sing right up before the congregation!” 

“Cricket! you bold, bad, deceitful thing!” 
Nancy was genuinely surprised. 

“To think of the Crick standing up in 
meeting and airing a bran new talent.” 

“Splendid! Splendid!” cried Miss Rose, 
“and Mr. Fleming is some how getting into 
the mechanism of our summer. I have not 
met him. Is he nice?” 

“Middling — everything,” Nancy vouch- 
safed, “except in appetite. Mrs. Allen says 
the woman that cooks for him is fierce with 
victuals and so he comes there to be fed up. 
He’s middling good looking, middling young; 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


137 


likewise, middling old, middling tall, fat and 
jolly. Mrs. Allen says he has a practical na- 
ture or something exciting, but if he has I 
bet it is only middling thrilling. Go on. 
Crick! We wait to hear you trill.” 

One thing was now very noticeable with 
the girls. They were absolutely free and un- 
conscious with each other. Jokes and gibes 
were given and taken and a happy comrade- 
ship held them. 

“It’s the first hymn for Sunday,” Jane ex- 
plained and then very sweetly and with a 
tender tone in her faint little soprano voice, 
she sang: 


*'Unto our heavenly Father 
We will not fear to pray 
For little deeds and longings 
That fill our every day; 
And when we dare not whisper 
A want that lieth dim 
We say ‘Our Father knoweth/ 
And leave it all to him.” 


No one spoke when Jane sat down. The 
fire burned a bit brighter; the rain outside 
seemed to pause and listen, for little Jane 
Trevor had put much feeling in the words. 


138 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“I — I should never have dreamed of sing- 
ing,” she said quietly, when the silence began 
to make her uncomfortable, “but you cannot 
imagine how I am beginning to love it. The 
more you sing out, the better you feel inside.” 

Even Nancy forbore a jest; she was hum- 
ming to herself: 

“And when we dare not whisper 
A want that lieth low.” 

“It’s like our own dear hymn: 

“ ‘Wash pure my heart and cleanse for me 
My heart’s desire/ ” 

half whispered Joy Deering. 

“My!” Nancy Temple explained: “Ain’t 
these meetings grand? And I’m going to 
sing in the choir, too. I work so fast and do 
such a lot now that Ma says I can afford to 
be real giddy. I’m going to have a new dress, 
likewise.” 

“The Dauntless!” Miss Rose looked at 
Sylvia who was brooding with her eyes fixed 
upon the fire. Without looking up Sylvia 
spoke slowly. 

“I’ve had an experience; an adventure!” 

“Impossible,” Nancy broke in. “I could 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


139 


no more think of your having an adventure, 
Sylvy, than I could think of you with tangles 
in your hair.” 

“All the same I’ve had one and — after a 
day or so I’ll tell you all about it. Hiatini, 
may I be excused to-night?” 

Miss Rose saw that there was something 
back of this request, but she was a very wise 
Guardian of the Fire, and she merely nodded 
pleasantly. 

“I can trust you,” she said, “there is only 
rich cream in the well of my summer. If the 
Dauntless one has had an adventure I am sure 
it was a jolly, harmless one and we can wait.” 

Sally’s eyes were upon Sylvia. 

“I bet I know,” she broke in mysteriously. 
And before any one could interfere she said 
impishty: “Fish! They came down to the 
store !” 

“Stop!” Sylvia commanded in a tone no 
one had ever heard her use before. 

“I don’t care!” Sally tossed back, “Pa said 
he hadn’t any but — canned ones!” 

“Stop!” Again Sylvia’s voice rose angrily. 
Sally laughed and made a “mouth” at Sylvia. 
“I know who the tall one meant when he 
said — ” 


140 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


At this Sylvia sprang up and rushed over 
to Sally. She took the girl by the shoulders 
and again cried: 

“Stop!” 

This time Sally heeded. With a laugh she 
shook herself free and tossed her head airily. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” she muttered. 

Miss Rose was so surprised at this outbreak 
that she could not speak. She had long felt 
the antagonism between Sylvia and Sally, but 
she had hoped it would smooth down as so 
many rough edges had during the past days 
in the camp. 

“If only something vital would draw 
them together,” she had thought, but now she 
feared something vital had driven them apart 
and Sylvia’s adventure troubled her, too, with 
Sally’s light thrown upon it. However, she 
held her peace and decided to wait for Sylvia’s 
own confession. Sylvia might be a bit snob- 
bish but she had a sweet nature underneath. 
Miss Rose felt sure, and every time Miss Rose 
thought of the noble old Grandfather who was 
trying to be parents and friend to the young 
girl, she believed that everything would come 
out right. 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


14.1 


“Now that the storm is over — ” Nancy had 
tactfully gone to the window and looked out, 
“we’ll proceed.” 

“The Nameless!” Miss Rose said calmly. 

“Well?” Nancy came back to the group. 
“My soul yearned for service and I’ve found 
it! I went down to Mr. Temple’s the other 
day to get his opinion about buying potatoes 
and garden truck — you see how local my 
speech is becoming — and Mr. Temple sent me 
to Widder Thorne’s place down Compton 
Way.” 

Nancy was a perfect mimic and her voice 
and face now were comical to the last degree. 

“I went and found the Widder Thorne.” 

“Lands!” Sally interrupted — “ain’t she one 
fearful old woman, though?” 

“I should think she would be fearful,” 
Nancy replied. “I guess if any of us had had 
every earthly thing snatched away from us 
but garden truck we’d be fearful! Three hus- 
bands, ten children, not to mention parents 
and sisters and things — all swept away by one 
disease after another. While we talked vege- 
tables she went into particulars. ‘Nothing 
left but garden sass,’ she moaned, ‘and my eye 


U2 


CAaiP BRAVE PINE 


sight so bad I can’t see to read or knit or any- 
thing!’ Well, I’m going to buy table stuff 
from her and you all better, too, when you 
run the house, but beside that I’ve formed a 
club for her! So far there’s only Mrs. Thorn, 
Mercy Flanders and me, but the membership 
isn’t limited — I’m going to cheer that poor old 
soul up or know the reason why. I’m going 
to read aloud to her and Mercy every Satur- 
day afternoon — we’re going to call ourselves 
— The Corner Club — and we’ll make good, 
see if we don’t!” 

“I’d like to join!” Jane cried. “Please let 
me. Nan; I know the club will be stunning.” 

“And me ! And me !” 

“And, oh! Nan, let’s take box lunches and 
have tea on the piazza,” Margaret added. 

“There ain’t no piaz!” Nancy shook her 
head. 

“Well, on the grass then, or in her parlor, 
anywhere! Let us make it — a party!” 

There was a little more merry talking and 
planning and then came the refreshments, the 
evening hymn, and the extinguishing of the 
fire. 

The storm had passed and outside the night 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


143 


was clearing. Already the stars shone over 
the Brave Pine. In a body, the girls and Miss 
Rose escorted Mary and Sally to the edge of 
the meadow over which they could run to the 
Allen place, where Sally was to remain with 
Mary. 

“But before you go, girls,” Miss Rose said, 
standing with her group gathered close, “can 
we not find names for Sally and Mary?” 

A silence fell. It was a confused silence. 
Every girl felt that Sylvia wanted to say 
something disagreeable to Sally and even 
Nancy’s keen wits were clogged. Just then 
an owl hooted “whoo — ^whoo!” 

“I declare,” Miss Rose said, “you know the 
Indians always got their names by inspiration 
— who’d like to be — Owl?” 

“I’d just love to be!” Mary replied quickly. 

“I’m going to try and be wise and — and — ” 

“Up late?” Miss Rose suggested. 

“I’m going to be — ^the Owl,” Mary was 
dancing about gleefully. “The Owl — isn’t it 
grand, and no one must know how I got the 
name.” 

“Ooh!” Sylvia suddenly cried, “here’s a 
worm on my hand!” 


144 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“But you’re already named!” Nancy hastily 
broke in, thus diverting a disaster, for even 
Sally saw the suggestion. “And, oh! Sally, 
how would you like to be The Scribbler?” 

“But — I don’t scribble!” Sally was in- 
dignant. Her ambition was so sacred to her 
that to name it thus seemed cruel. 

“But every great writer calls himself that,” 
Nancy comforted. “It’s a joke. It hides 
the real thing!” Sally finally consented, not 
because she was convinced, but her admiration 
for Nancy knew no bounds and had Nancy 
suggested calling her Beelzebub she would 
have accepted in the end. 

Little Jane crept to Sylvia’s wigwam late 
that night, and paused by the door to listen. 

“Who’s there?” came in Sylvia’s most 
trembling voice, “and what do you want?” 

Then Jane went in and cuddled down upon 
the narrow bed, close to Sylvia. 

“What makes you hate Sally so?” she 
whispered. “We all feel it and I know that it 
makes Miss Rose real sad.” 

“She makes me crawl!” Sylvia confided. 
*T wish she didn’t belong with us — she’s like 
the — the — serpent in Eden or something like 
that and she’s — beginning to put on airs!” 


THE KNIGHTS GO FISHING 


145 


“Sylvy, dear, why don’t you do something 
for her?” 

“Do something for her? I’d like to — to 
pinch her!” 

“But instead, if you did something awfully 
kind, something you did not really want to 
do — it might get you through Sally’s crust, 
and down to the hest of her.” 

Sylvia did not reply. She was thinking of 
her Grandfather’s letter. 

“I sometimes dream I’m in a place all alone 
with Sally,” Sylvia spoke at last and with that 
strange thrill in her voice, “nobody ever made 
me feel like that before. I don’t like to get 
so near people I do not like.” 

“Well, Sylvy, dear, if you ever do get into 
a place alone with Sally, be kind! Just think 
of her mother!” 

“Are you mother-sick, Janey?” Kindness 
crept back into Sylvia’s voice. 

“Just a wee! You see I had a letter from 
Mother to-night. She’s so glad I am to stay 
longer, and yet I can hear her calling me in 
every line. She is such a brave, trumpy little 
mother, and Sylvy, Judge Conly has sent her 
to investigate some charity of his, way up in 


146 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


the mountains — the Adirondacks. I know it 
is a plot to get her away. How heavenly 
good people are, Sylvy, and — and please be 
kind, dear, to even Sally — ^the kindness creeps 
in deeper than any meanness ever does. 
Good-night, Sylvy girl !” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE FISH 

It was Wednesday and half-past ten in the 
morning. Miss Rose, Margaret and Joy 
Deering had gone to Mercy Flanders for the 
laundry, Nancy, Sylvia and Jane were in the 
arbor planning the day’s meals and gossiping 
in jolly girl fashion. 

“It looks like vegetarian diet to-day, 
Sylvy,” remarked Nancy, as she pared po- 
tatoes, while Jane darned stockings. “The 
fishman hasn’t materialized.” 

Sylvia flushed. 

“Did you have an adventure that day, 
Syl?” Jane asked, running her needle in and 
out of the threads, and making a neat repair. 

“Did I?” Sylvia twisted her mouth comi- 
cally. “I should say I did — what’s that.” 

All three looked down the little lane lead- 
ing to the highway. 

“F or — good — ness — sakes !” 

“It looks like the advance of Joseph and 

147 


148 


CMIP BRAVE PINE 


his brethren,” Nancy murmured craning her 
neck. “They’ve got something in a wheel- 
barrow, and there’s a dog and four boys!” 

“It’s — ” Sylvia paused for effect — “it’s my 
adventure I” 

Down went Jane’s stocking basket and up 
bounced Nancy. 

“Your — what?” she cried. 

“My — adventure!” Sylvia returned calmly, 
as if adventures had been daily occurrences in 
her past life. 

The oncomers were drawing near and the 
dog’s barking was arousing the echoes. 

“That’s Jim Naylor with the fish and — ” 

“Jim Naylor? Why Sylvia Dean, you 
little hypoerite, that’s Jim Niehols! He 
tutored my little brother all last winter!” 
whispered Nancy hoarsely. 

“And,” Jane was quite white, as she gasped, 
“that — that one with the dog is — Tod Nilson!” 

At this Sylvia had her bad moment, for Tod 
Nilson was a friend of her own, and, as she 
gazed upon him in his flannel shirt, and old 
felt hat, her heart sank with apprehension. 

“And Miss Rose away!” she half moaned; 
“what can we do?” 


THE FISH 


14.9 


“Do!” Nancy took command. “Brave it 
out — act your part. Handle your adventure 
like the Dauntless one you are. Maybe he 
won’t remember you — here take my apron 
and pull your hair up under your hat. See! 
the others are stopping — your adventure is 
coming on alone!” 

With this Nancy tied the apron around poor 
Sylvia’s waist and gave her a push forward 
toward the boy who was advancing up the hill 
with a heavy basket on his arm, while his three 
companions and the dog waited under a tree 
near the roadside. 

“Scoot!” whispered Nancy to Jane and the 
field was free to Sylvia and her Adventure. 

“Beasts!” muttered Sylvia looking after 
the fleeing girls. “I’ll never forgive you — 
never!” 

But the house door slammed and a condi- 
tion faced Sylvia Dean. 

Jago toiled up the hill, crossed the little 
stretch of grass and came directly to Sylvia, 
as she stood hot and disheveled in the arbor. 

“Good morning!” said Jago, setting his 
basket down and wiping his perspiring brow 
as he took off his hat. “I’ve brought the — 


150 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


fish. We’ve been up sinee midnight catehing 
them— we — we eaught them alive!” 

Sylvia’s silence was disconcerting. 

“Alive!” — the girl suddenly broke in. 
“Alive! That sounds horribly cruel. Are 
they still alive?” She looked fearfully toward 
the basket. 

“No,” Jago replied with exaggerated seri- 
ousness, “and if we had had chloroform, we 
would have been more gentle with the crea- 
tures. As it was, we did the best we could. 
We used hooks — the agony was short.” 

Sylvia shuddered. 

“What kinds are there?” she asked moving 
a little from the basket. 

“A rare assortment — indeed every kind 
that came along. We didn’t know how many 
you had to provide for.” Jago looked yearn- 
ingly at the shady arbor. 

“Please, couldn’t I sit down?” he asked; 
“you see my — dogs have made themselves 
comfortable down yonder.” 

At this Sylvia had to smile and she did so 
with a dimple in either cheek, as she moved to 
the shady arbor. 

“Woe, Sporty and Goo — not to mention 
Danny, the Boston Bull — at your service.” 


THE FISH 


151 


Jago waved his hand toward his late fol- 
lowers. At this Sylvia glanced helplessly at 
the house and had the pleasure of seeing 
Nancy and Jane at an upper window, in- 
dulging in all sorts of monkey tricks, and 
dropping from sight at every turn of the fish- 
monger’s head. At this development Sylvia 
became demoralized, and an insane desire to 
give way to laughter shook her nerves. 

“There are not many of us,” she said strug- 
gling with her risibles; “Hiatini, Swift Foot, 
Singing Cricket, Nameless and — and The 
Wap and me.” 

It was the visitor’s turn to stare now. He 
feared this very innocent, simple-looking girl 
was guying him — ^giving names for names, 
and the situation began to assume more in- 
, teresting aspects. 

“And your — name?” he asked; “I thought 
it was — Dean!” 

“I’m the Dauntless!” Sylvia glanced to the 
upper window, and at that moment Nancy 
was imploring high heaven for something 
while Jane was pointing at the fish basket 
with practieal suggestion that it be removed 
from the broiling heat. 


152 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“You know we all thought when we first 
heard of you,” Jago was saying, “that you 
were Fresh-airers !” 

“I don’t know what they are,” Sylvia said 
truly, “but if you don’t mind, will you bring 
those fish in here with us — the sun’s so hot. 
Or maybe we better take them around to the 
cool-house.” 

Jago arose at once and resumed his burden. 
It was easier to talk with the fishmonger if 
Nancy and Jane were out of sight, but poor 
Sylvia deluded herself; her relief was short- 
lived. Reaching the back of the house, she 
and Jago entered the shed off which was the 
cave-like place where the ice and perishable 
food were kept. 

“Right in here!” Sylvia said, opening the 
door. 

“Here!” came in a whisper, close behind 
Sylvia, and then she knew Nancy and Jane 
had come downstairs, and were mimicking her 
from behind the kitchen window. 

“What was that?” Jago asked, turning. 

“An echo!” Sylvia said desperately. “I 
never heard such a place as this for echoes. 
How much do I owe — you?” 


THE FISH 


163 


“Owe you !” came the muffled words. 

At this Jago came out of the cool-house 
shaking with laughter. 

“That echo is mighty spasmodic,” he ex- 
claimed, “and discriminating, Miss Dean — ” 
he stood bravely in front of Sylvia; “let’s own 
up. When we sent you that basket of — food 
we honestly thought you were fresh air chil- 
dren from town ; then when you came and mis- 
took me for Jim Naylor, you put us on the 
trail — we know there are a lot of girls here 
with — a chaperone, and we fellows want to 
be friendly. We’re dreadfully lonely at 
times — and — and — the fellows. Sporty, Goo 
and Woe and Danny — want — to — to — be 
invited up.” 

This was too much for Sylvia; she sat down 
on a pile of wood which promptly fell to roll- 
ing about leaving Sylvia on the floor of the 
shed! “You sent that — food?” She gasped. 

“We did!” 

“Boys cooked — that food?” 

“Yes, ma’am. And please, may I help you 
up ?” 

“Jane Trevor and Nancy Mowbray you 
come straight out of that kitchen!” Sylvia 


164 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


demanded, “I’m not going to play fool any 
longer.” 

With this Nancy and Jane emerged, shak- 
ing with laughter, and for a few minutes the 
j oiliest greetings were in order. Then from 
down the hill a long plaintive whistle came — 
the whistle of warning. 

“You might as well call them up,” said 
Nancy. “I dare say they are hot and thirsty.” 

“Yes, fish must swim!” Jago returned, giv- 
ing the whistle, which, being interpreted 
meant “Help at hand! Friends, not enemies !” 

At a bound the group under the tree made 
for the house and Danny dashed ahead madly. 

Of course four jolly boys and three merry 
girls and a dog on a bright summer morning 
were good materials for a happy time and 
amid joking and explanations, they agreed to 
prepare dinner together, and naturally Nancy 
being the oldest girl, invited the willing helpers 
to share the prospective feast. 

Jago and Woe cleaned and arranged the 
fish while Sporty and Goo aided the girls in the 
kitchen. The table was set in the cool, shady 
dining room and there was much busthng 
about and merriment. 


THE FISH 


155 


“To think of — mere boys cooking as you 
can!” said Jane, raising a pitcher of creamy 
milk at arm’s length. 

“Wait until you taste these fish,” Jago re- 
plied, coming into the kitchen with a platter 
full. “Crisp and luscious will they be.” 

“I hate food before and after it is on the 
table,” cried Sporty, “here Miss — ” he looked 
at Jane. 

“Cricket, please,” Jane suggested. 

“Here Cricket, let us try that new side step 
we were learning last winter. Pipe up, Goo.” 

Goo, in the act of cutting bread, whistled a 
dance tune, while he waved the long knife, 
keeping time. Around and around the sunny 
kitchen whirled Sporty and the Cricket, while 
Danny darted at their heels and the others se- 
riously looked on. The smell of the meal in 
preparation rose temptingly; Jago tossed 
the fish in the deep, boiling fat and Nancy 
kept her eye on the pots of vegetables. In the 
midst of this gay scene came a knock on the 
outer door and every one started and stared. 

“Come in!” said Nancy, at length recover- 
ing herself, and in walked the Reverend Mr. 
Fleming! 


166 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


For a moment an appalling hush fell upon 
the room. Then with that perversity of hers, 
Nancy broke the pause: 

“Good morning, Mr. Fleming!” she said 
genially, “do come in and — stay to dinner.” 

Food and Mr. Fleming were one and the 
same thing to Nancy. She always associated 
him with the need of a good square meal. 

“It certainly looks and smells tempting,” 
said the minister, “and perhaps I can pay my 
way. I have come with an offering from my 
own garden — ” he set a large basket on the 
table and, uncovering it, displayed several 
quarts of luscious strawberries. 

“Oh!” Nancy exclaimed, “talk about being 
fed by ravens. Why that wasn’t in it!” 

“And — we hadn’t any dessert,” added Jane 
Trevor; “what a feast we will have. Take a 
chair, Mr. Fleming — ” 

“Unless you’d rather go in the living room,” 
Sylvia put in thinking of the proprieties. 

“No, I thank you!” The Reverend Mr. 
Fleming was sitting on the edge of the table 
swinging one of his long legs in an ecstasy of 
enjoyment. All the middling traits seemed to 
have disappeared. He looked young — more 


THE FISH 


157 


young than old; more jolly than grave; more 
plain-folk than minister of the village church. 

“What a sight this is for hungry heart and 
eyes,” he was saying in an eager boyish way. 
“I’ve been hearing about you all gradually 
and when you — ” he turned to Jane, “joined 
the choir I thought I ought to be neighborly. 
And Mrs. Thorne and Miss Flanders have 
been telling me about the — Saturday Club — 
I haven’t laughed so since I came to The 
Corners. It’s good to be with a lot of young, 
jolly creatures again. I suppose you fellows 
are from the Round Table — ” 

“We are the Round Table!” Goo broke 
in. “We are It!” 

“Mr. Temple has been explaining the Order 
to me.” 

“Order of Fools!” Sporty explained fanning 
Jane with a tin pie plate. 

“Every one of us has taken the diploma of 
Ass,” added Woe, deftly turning a delicious 
looking mess of beans from a kettle while Jago 
landed his golden brown fish on a hot platter. 

“If Miss Rose would only come,” breathed 
Sylvia and then a long drawn out — “Well!” 
caused every eye to turn to the doorway 


158 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


of the dimly lighted room. Miss Rose with 
Margaret and Joy stood on the threshold 
amaze and real concern on their faces. 

“Has there been — a fire?” gasped Miss Rose 
thinking the neighbors had responded to a call 
for help. 

“There has, ma’am. A bully one — excuse 
me, a hot one,” replied Goo wiping his honest 
brow. 

“Or an — an accident?” suggested Margaret 
looking from face to face. 

“Exactly;” Jago gave his big laugh, “an acci- 
dental meeting of old friends.” He looked 
beamingly at Nancy, Sporty, Jane and Syl- 
via. 

“I — I thought something had happened,” 
Joy panted. 

“Something has — a dinner; it’s ready!” 

“And I came up to share my strawberries 
with you. Miss Fay;” Mr. Fleming stepped 
forward, “and these young people have asked 
me to stay to dinner. I hope you will let me. 
If you only knew;” he looked comically dole- 
ful, “how fearfully hungry a man can be who 
is half boy and half poor minister, I am sure 
you would be generous.” 


THE FISH 


159 


Miss Rose was herself again. Whatever 
might be necessary in the way of explanation 
for the four boys darting helpfully about, no 
further explanation was needed for Mr. 
Fleming. He was accepted and welcomed. 

Surely no one had ever had a better time 
than he had at that dinner. F ood disappeared 
with alarming rapidity and one good story 
after another brought forth cheers and clap- 
ping. Miss Rose from her end of the table 
glanced now and then at Mr. Fleming across 
the board. 

“He’s not even middle aged,” she 
thought, “and he is very good looking.” 

It was after everything was made tidy that 
further explanations were indulged. Out un- 
der the pine tree every one became most 
friendly and intimate. 

“You see,” said Jago, “Sporty’s father con- 
ceived the idea that we should come up here and 
sort of camp out while I tutored Sporty and 
the others. We’re coming on after a fashion 
but all work and no play was getting on our 
nerves, and then — ” he looked at Sylvia and 
grinned. “The Dauntless appeared with her 
fish appeal and woke us up. We interviewed 


160 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Jim Naylor and have found a real chum in him. 
He’s taken us into business. He’s to get a 
commission on the fish we sell — if he shows us 
where to get the fish. We’re going to have 
some fun. We’ve been living too much alone.” 

“Well, your fame and the fame of Camp 
Brave Pine have gone abroad. Sally Temple 
and Mary Allen are good advance agents, not 
to mention Uncle Silas, Mary Flanders and 
Mrs. Thorne!” 

Mr. Fleming was stretched upon the grass 
digesting his first good meal since he had dined 
at Mrs. Allen’s. “I’ll join the ranks of your 
rooters now. Since I’ve come to The Corners 
and been fed spasmodically by old Mrs. Gable, 
I am easily influenced by a touch of home life 
and a square meal.” 

“How long may we stay. Miss Fay?” asked 
Sporty. Miss Rose smiled. 

“I’d get home, little boys, before dark,” she 
said. 

“And may we come again — if we bring fish?” 
Jago was balancing himself on the railing of 
the arbor. 

“Yes, indeed — especially if you show us how 
to cook them,” Miss Rose nodded. 


THE FISH 


161 


“May I come to — help eat it?” Mr. Fleming 
arose and stretched himself luxuriously; “may 
I have the crumbs that fall from the rich 
people’s table?” 

Again Miss Rose nodded merrily, 

“And Danny and the rest of us?” Woe re- 
marked, “will fill in chinks, eat scraps, wash 
dishes, and add to the general hilarity of the 
occasions.” 

And that was the way Camp Brave Pine be- 
came acquainted with the Knights of the 
Round Table and good Mr. Fleming, who soon 
proved himself to be anything but “middling.” 


CHAPTER IX 


ALONE -WITH SALLY 

“Now that we have things running 
smoothly,” Miss Rose said one cool, bright 
morning in late July, “I think we ought to go 
on an all-day tramp. We’ll take food along, 
have a camp-fire and cook what we can. We’U 
ask Mary and Sally and perhaps have a cere- 
monial off somewhere!” 

“Delicious!” cried Margaret, “and Joy is 
getting so well up in wood eraft that she’s a 
regular little seout.” 

“Of course it wouldn’t be the thing at all to 
ask the boys,” Sylvia timidly suggested. 

Miss Rose shook her head. Mueh as she en- 
joyed the new additions to the summer’s life 
she did not want her plans to wander too far 
astray. She saw the great good the simple, 
normal life was doing the girls; she saw that 
among themselves there was no rivalry; 
nothing but happy eomradeship and she 

wanted the good work to have full opportunity. 

162 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


163 


Lately Joy Deering had taken seriously to out- 
of-door sports and study. Her lackadaisical 
manner was fast disappearing and she 
was brown and sturdy. Little Jane Trevor 
was a close second to Joy and with the 
aid of Uncle Silas she had procured sev- 
eral good hens and roosters and was car- 
ing for them most scientifically. The other 
girls, too, were receiving great good from 
the vacation, but Miss Rose noticed that 
since the invasion of the Knights, the tendency 
to relax into formal city ways was evident. 

“Let’s keep to our original plans,” she said 
gently; “the boys must rely upon themselves. 
We ought not interfere with their study so 
much and now that Mr. Fleming has joined 
them, they have enough to keep them oc- 
cupied.” 

Sylvia looked pouty for an instant but at 
Nancy’s “tut! tut! my spoiled child!” she 
laughed and brightened. Sylvia’s moods were 
short-lived now. She was earnestly trying to 
live up to Jane Trevor who had beeome her 
ideal. 

Margaret was dispatched to signal Mary 
Allen who, in turn, would telephone to Sally 


164 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Temple. The signaling consisted of waving 
a sheet from the branches of the pine tree until 
a response came from another sheet waved 
from Mary’s attic window. To see Margaret 
climb the pine tree was a delight to Miss Rose’s 
heart. The young body was now as supple as 
Nancy’s. Rest and exercise had done their 
part and a light heart had helped. Swift 
Foot was no longer a joke. She was agile and 
confident. 

While the signaling was going on the others 
went inside to pack baskets and make arrange- 
ments. 

The signal from the pine was answered and 
Margaret returned to the house. In a half 
hour Mary presented herself, all smiles and en- 
thusiasm, and a basket of biscuits. 

“Sally can’t come,” she announced; “she says 
she has something to do this morning, some- 
thing particular. I had all my work done 
when I saw the signal and I tell you it is great 
having regular stints like Miss Rose asked Ma 
to have for me and then doing them and be- 
ing free. Why, I feel like a real business 
woman!” The girl laughed gleefully. “And 
what’s more. Miss Rose,” she said, “Pa is pay- 













S3^?' ^ 4. ^ ' al • . Mmmjiji*. V^'JIW 





ALONE WITH SALLY 


165 


ing me for my work, like what you suggested, 
and it’s just grand having my own money.” 

Miss Rose looked at the eager face which, 
a time back, had been so dull and sullen. 

“It ain’t that I’m not willing to do my share,” 
Mary went on; “and I often tack on little extra 
jobs to please Ma and Pa — things I never 
thought of before — but it makes you feel so 
good to know that your work’s worth some- 
thing. I wouldn’t take things for nothing 
now for anything. I’m trying to buy my 
clothes out of what Pa gives and he’s real sur- 
prised,” 

Sylvia looked very thoughtful. She was 
thinking of the years when she had taken and 
taken and taken and never thought what she 
was giving in return. Suddenly little Mary 
Allen assumed new proportions to her and she 
began to wonder what she could do in return 
for all that was given her. She glanced at 
Joy Deering and Joy’s face was quite red. 
Then Sylvia knew that it was time to have a 
talk with Joy and see if they could not come 
to some conclusion. Nancy was fitting her- 
self for private secretary work; Margaret was 
doing a woman’s work in her home and help- 


166 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


ing to keep the family together. Jane 
Trevor had long supported herself and as- 
sisted her little widowed mother, only Joy and 
Sylvia were — as Sylvia had recently called 
herself — show girls and, did they pay? 

With much flutter and noise the party 
started off at nine or a little after. Joy and 
Sylvia brought up the rear. 

“I’ve been thinking — ” Sylvia began. 

“So have I,” Joy echoed. 

“Don’t you sometimes feel — useless? Kind 
of unnecessary?” 

“Yes,” said Joy. 

“Of course Grandfather cares for me but 
I’m awfully selfish with him. I scarcely ever 
get up to have breakfast with him. I don’t 
even keep him from being lonely. Parties at 
night and things all day — I do not practice 
my music as I should — and oh! Joy, some- 
times I do get up early — when I want to ask 
for more money! I’ve wasted money fear- 
fully, too. Now that I’ve kept accounts here, 
I’ve had hideous visions of all that I’ve 
wasted.” 

Joy shifted the basket she carried to her 
left hand. 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


167 


“Cutting sodas and candy out as we do here, 
makes a big difference,” she said. “Daddy 
and Mother never had any child but me; 
maybe they think I’m the usual kind but — 
after this summer,” Joy raised her head 
bravely; “I’m going to be another kind. I’m 
not going to cheat Father and Mother. I’m 
going to be the best kind of a girl that I can 
be.” 

“What’s made the difference in us?” Sylvia 
asked. 

“I suppose it is because we’ve got close to 
each other and seen things. Why, Syl, what 
do you think? Meg Lee wants, actually 
wants to go to college while I’ve had college 
thrown at my head ever since I graduated 
from Miss Purley’s. I just wouldn’t go to 
college. I had tantrums when Daddy tried 
to urge it and here is dear old Meg, proudly 
giving up everything of her very own and 
never saying a word.” 

“Well, you cannot throw a college at Meg,” 
Sylvia ventured. “The Lees are not that 
kind.” 

“The world’s wrong then,” Joy again 
changed the basket and her face was quite 


168 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


tragic, “ Y ou and I wasting money and other 
girls doing without the big things that the 
world ought to have them have.” 

“My!” Sylvia took off her hat and fanned 
herself with it, “doesn’t it make you hot to — 
to think?” 

“No hotter than dancing in a warm room,” 
Joy trudged ahead with chin held high; “we 
stand that all right. It’s thinking about 
others and the hotness that causes, that we 
mind. Syl, why can’t we somehow, make 
Meg get what she ought to have ; what are we 
Camp Fire girls for anyway?” 

Sylvia shook her head. The little damp, 
golden curls clung to her brow; there were 
tiny beads of perspiration on her cunning 
little nose that vied with the freckles. 
t “Who’s behind us?” she asked suddenly. 

“Nancy and Jane, I think,” Joy replied. 

“Well, I’m going to sit here and rest until 
they catch up. You go ahead, if you’re not 
too hot and tell Miss Rose that we’ll be there 
soon. I’m all fussed. What with climbing 
and thinking and — and carrying this load of 
books.” 

So Joy forged ahead while Sylvia sat by 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


169 


the side of the path and waited. She tried 
not to think; she wanted to feel care free and 
jolly. The bright day and the thought of the 
happy luncheon on ahead at Bat’s Cave, were 
unable to chase away her strange sense of 
something wrong. Presently she said: 

“I’U walk back and find Nan and Jane.” 

So she walked back down the hill, calling 
now and again, “Hey, there, Janey and Nani” 
Then she tried the "Wo-he-lo" and her sweet 
voice started the birds who were flying from 
tree to tree. No answer came and by and by 
Sylvia began to feel lonely and a bit 
frightened. 

“They’ve taken another path,” she con- 
cluded. “Jane is always snooping around in 
the woods. She knows every trail just like a 
scout.” At that point Sylvia came to an open 
space on the hillside from which she could see 
the meadow lying between the hill upon which 
she stood, and that of the Brave Pine. Not 
a sign of Nancy or Jane could she see — but 
she did see something else ! 

Some one was going up the slope leading 
to the little gray house. Some one who was 
going very quickly. Sylvia watched and 


170 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


then her eyes, grown far-seeing and strong 
from out-door living and wide spaces, recog- 
nized Sally Temple. 

“That’s queer,” Sylvia murmured, “she 
knew we were all going away for the day and 
she said she had something particular to do.” 

Then Sally went into the house. Sylvia 
saw her quite distinctly and sudden fear came 
into her heart. Suspicion and dislike gave 
strength to fear and without questioning fur- 
ther Sylvia ran down the slope and made for 
the little gray house on the opposite hill. 
Never had she been so hot or tired in her life 
before as she was when, breathless and pant- 
ing, she emerged from the grove beside the 
home-place and tiptoed through the kitchen 
and up the stairs. Sally was above, that was 
evident enough. Thinking herself alone and 
in no danger of being disturbed the invader 
was giving herself full freedom. 

Silently Sylvia crept up the narrow stairs 
and peeped through the railings of the ban- 
nisters. Sally was in Sylvia’s room and 
bending before the trunk! 

The lock was not fastened and presently 
Sylvia had the shock of seeing her belongings 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


171 


emptied upon the floor while Sally, quiet now 
and trembling, handled them with a kind of 
reverence. 

Sylvia could not speak. Anger and dis- 
like were held in check by curiosity. She had 
never seen Sally look as she was looking now. 
The plain face was transformed — it was, in 
its excitement and emotion, almost beautiful. 
The eyes were dark and flashing; the cheeks, 
through their tan, quite red. 

“This is her — ^jewel box!” Sally’s voice was 
tense and flerce. “My! and I ain’t ever had 
one little bit of jewelry in all my life and I’m 
perishing for — for just a little bosom pin. 
One, two, three, four, flve! Five brooches be- 
sides chains and lockets and beads and rings 
and — and — stick pins!” 

Sally was handling the things gently; “I’m 
— going — to — ^take — this— one !” A hunger 
rang in her voice. “I don’t care if I am a 
— thief. She oughtn’t to have everything 
and me nothing! Hateful thing!” 

Sylvia tried to summon her courage and 
dash upon Sally but something held her hack. 
She watched and waited a little longer and all 
her life she was glad that she did. 


172 CAMP BRAVE PINE 

Sally began, slowly to take out the clothing 
— the pretty blue party dress so like a sum- 
mer cloud. 

“I’m going to — put it on!” And on it 
went after the coarse gingham dress was cast 
hastily aside. “And I’m going to — fix my 
hair like hers!” 

Sally’s stiff braids were loosened and with 
a certain dexterity the locks were pulled into 
something like grace. A gold chain was then 
hung around the browned neck and breath- 
lessly Sally went over to the little mirror and 
posed. From where she hid, Sylvia could see 
the reflection in the glass and she saw a mira- 
cle! The hard, young, excited face changed 
suddenly into soft and winning lines : a plead- 
ing look filled the eyes. “You — ^you pretty 
thing!” There was no foolish vanity in 
Sally’s voice, even Sylvia, palpitating and 
furious, was touched by the tones. “You 
pretty thing. Now let the prettiness inside 
you come out, you Sally Temple! Don’t you 
shame this dress! What would you do, Sally 
Temple, if you had these nice things for your 
own? Would you be nasty and proud and 
upperty? I bet you wouldn’t because you’d 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


173 


know how it felt to be shabby and make-be- 
lieve when all the time you were just starving 
for prettiness. You ain’t bad looking in these 
things, you’d live up to them if you had them ! 
My, don’t the chain look dazzly? And how 
soft the silk is — people would take notice of 
you if you had these things, Sally Temple!” 

Then another change came over the face. 
The joy fled and the color faded. “But 
you’re — nothing — but — a thief!” 

The struggle was on now in dead earnest. 
Which was it to be — a pure memory or one 
which Sally Temple would always look back 
upon with horror? Sylvia could not go for- 
ward. If Sally kept the pin then it would 
be time enough to confront her in order to 
save her from herself — for Sylvia, strange to 
say, wanted to save Sally! But as long as 
Sally could flght for herself — she must fight. 

Alone in the little gray house by the Brave 
Pine the struggle waged. 

“You are so — dear!” Sally had the pin 
now in the waist of the blue dress. “Some 
day — when they are all gone — ” The ex- 
pression in the reflected face made anger die 
in Sylvia’s heart. 


174 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Yes! No! No! Yes! The foes bat- 
tled while Sally stood and looked at herself 
in the glass. Then suddenly all the fire and 
joy departed. Plain little Sally with tear- 
filled eyes looked at a triumphant, but equally 
plain Sally in the mirror! Quickly the pin 
was taken out of the dainty dress and put in 
its box — then, with all the strength of battle 
past, Sally dropped beside Sylvia’s bed and 
buried her head on her arm. 

There were no loud sobs — the conflict had 
left her too weak and shamed. The summer 
sunlight fell upon the little heap, on the floor, 
in the lovely blue gown. 

Then it was that Sylvia stepped softly 
across the hall and noiselessly into the room. 
In all her life Sylvia Dean had never felt so 
helpless nor so strong: so tender: so afraid! 
Her eyes and heart had been opened and her 
foe was before her! 

Down she sank beside Sally and then it was 
that the victor by the bed started up with a 
trembling cry. 

“You! You!” she gapsed. 

“Oh! if Nancy Mowbray was here,” fal- 
tered Sylvia, “she would know what to sa3\ 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


175 


Sally, Sally, I don’t know what to say or do. 
I’ve seen everything! Every solitary thing 
and I think — you’re the bravest girl! I know 
I couldn’t have been so splendid. I’ve been 
mean and snitchy — oh! Sally, I’m so sorry.” 

Sally continued to stare. 

“This is — your dress!” she said vaguely, as 
if that might bring about an understanding 
of the true situation. 

“It’s more yours than mine, Sally — you’ve 
earned it. I only had it.” 

“And” — Sally gulped. 

“Don’t! don’t!” Sylvia put her hand out 
pleadingly, “don’t! I tell you I saw every 
solitary thing and I think you are — ^the — the 
best ever! Just fancy wanting and never 
having, and then getting the chance — and 
finding yourself after all a nice, brave girl.” 

And then for some unknown reason both 
girls began to cry softly, almost happily. 

“And — ^you’ll never tell?” It was Sally’s 
quivering voice. 

“Never! Sally — only you and I, and the 
girl in that glass, will ever know. But come, 
Sally, change your dress quickly. Here, let 
me jam mine in the trunk. Now, braid your 


176 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


hair, I’ll button your waist. There! Now 
come.” 

“Come — where?” Sally was vaguely do- 
ing as she was bid. 

“Over to Bats’ Cave. Picnic — fun. Ah! 
Sally, hurry.” 

Down the stairs and out of the house they 
ran. Across the meadow and up the opposite 
hill. They did not speak to each other, every 
breath was precious. Sylvia found the 
bundle of books she had dropped on her way 
and on again she and Sally plunged. 

It was a mile ahead that they came upon the 
others returning to look them up. “Why, 
Sally’s there,” cried Miss Rose, spying the 
girls first. 

“Yes,” panted Sylvia. “I stopped to wait 
for Nan and Jane and they did not come and 
then — I saw Sally across the meadow and I 
went back and got her. She was — she had 
finished what she had to do. I made her 
come on.” 

Nancy’s keen eyes were upon the two. She 
saw that Sally was looking with strange 
fervor at Sylvia and she saw that frivolous 
Sylvia had undergone some marked change. 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


177 


But Nancy’s nimble tongue knew when to 
keep silence so she turned and retraced her 
steps. The others followed and the walk was 
resumed. 

“We’re all going to get something to tell on 
this walk,” Mary Temple explained. “We 
ain’t going to say anything until we next meet 
at the Fire. But each of us must find some- 
thing.” 

Sylvia and Sally looked at each other and 
both knew that they had found something too 
deep for words. In a sense, too, they both 
realized that the days to come held other 
struggles for them. An instinctive dislike 
could not be overcome so suddenly. There 
would be doubts and aversions, but always 
Sylvia was to remember the face in the mirror 
and Sally was to recall, in her quiet hours, the 
words : 

“You’re the bravest girl. I couldn’t have 
been so splendid.” 

It was one o’clock when the party reached 
Bats’ Cave. They were hungry and tired, 
but never had they been so full of fun and 
capers. The camp fire was made and long 
sticks sharpened. There were chops to be 


178 


CAJVIP BRAVE PINE 


broiled and cocoa to be made; eggs to be 
boiled and potatoes roasted. Joy Deering 
had made the cake of the day and INIary had 
provided some delicious biscuits. 

“I suppose we ought to have something 
left,” said Nancy, eyeing the feast spread out 
at length upon the clean cloth, “but from the 
feelings I have I fear there won’t be. Move 
over, Meg,” the girls were all around the fire : 
“I want the flames to lick my chop.” 

“How did this place get its name?” Jane 
Trevor asked a little later when they were 
seated Turk-fashion at the feast. 

“Bats!” said Mary with her mouth full of 
egg and biscuit, “bats!” 

“I thought I heard a — a — stirring,” Joy 
ventured timidly, edging off from the opening 
of the cave. “Are there underground pas- 
sages and caverns?” 

“Yop!” Mary returned; “and a kind of 
room up above. After lunch let’s go up on 
top and look in.” 

“I — I — don’t think I care to.” Joy edged 
still farther away. 

“You have to crawl in on your stomach,” 
Sally added. “But once you get inside 
there’s quite a big space.” 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


179 


“Who dares to go?” Nancy asked. 

“Perhaps you better not,” Miss Rose said 
quietly, though she acknowledged that she 
would rather enjoy a little investigating her- 
self. 

“There ain’t anything in there but dirt and 
bats,” Sally urged, “and we could smoke out 
the bats.” 

“Would it hurt them?” asked Sylvia. 

“Sure it wouldn’t hurt ’em.” Mary 
snipped. “We’ll make a little fire by the 
opening and the bats will fly out of the top. 
It’s real easy. I’m not afraid. I’d as lief 
go in all by myself.” 

But Miss Rose forbade this. 

“We’ll start a smudge-fire,” she explained, 
“and clear the place. I remember going in 
when I was a little girl. It is very interest- 
ing. It is probably a bit dirtier and perhaps 
there are a few more hats, but nothing to 
hurt us. A cave is always fascinating. You 
never quite know what you will And inside. 
Come, girls, bring me some wood; we’ll clear 
the table afterward.” 

So the slow, smoky Are was built and an 
excited group of girls watched it and the space 
over the cave. 


180 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“The first bat you see, call out!” cried 
Nancy, “and then cover your heads. I don’t 
want the wingy things to clutch my locks.” 

“Ooh!” shivered Sylvia. “And I suppose 
they’d never let go until it thundered?” 

“You’re thinking of crabs and toes,” Mar- 
garet laughed. 

“Whew! but this smoke is stifling. Here, 
girls, fan it in with your skirts.” 

The black smoke rose and rose. It filled 
the opening of the cave like a dense pillar. 

“If any bat can stand that long,” said 
Nancy, “he’s the battiest bat I ever heard of. 
But just fancy the poor things all blind and 
fiendish-looking, being forced out into the 
daylight to get air. What’s that?” 

“Those wings again!” whispered Joy. 
“Look out, girls !” 

“Heads covered!” commanded Nancy. 
“There’s a batty thing.” 

So there was and another and another! 

“Gee whiz!” roared one bat, “call off your 
smoke until we haul Jago out. He’s too big 
for the opening, but we’ve got to wedge him 
through!” 

Miss Rose and the girls stood in a horrified 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


181 


ring while Sporty, Goo and Mr. Fleming lent 
helping hands to the other bats of their party. 

“You see,” explained Mr. Fleming, “when 
we heard you coming we did not want to force 
ourselves upon you so we took shelter in the 
cave. We didn’t expect to be smoked out — 
we tried to choke it out but when you fanned 
it directly in, we knew the day was lost. 
Please forgive us.” 

Miss Rose sat down upon a rock and 
laughed her gay, rippling laugh. 

“Here’s Jago and Woe,” Sporty an- 
nounced, dragging the two boys to the edge 
of the top of the cave. “They’re neither 
pretty, witty nor clean, but they’re beastly 
hungry. Could we have the — ^leavings, 
ma’am?” 

There was much bustling about to gather 
together the food and in the end a respectable 
meal was got together. 

“We wanted to be home by one,” Jago said. 
“Mr. Fleming was our guide here. Your 
coming rather set us back, and your smoke 
nearly ended us. Every mouthful I take is 
flavored with smudge.” 

“Well, it might be worse,” said Nancy com- 
fortingly; “there might be no mouthfuls.” 


182 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“It looks as if willy, nilly, Miss Fay, we 
were forced upon you,” Mr. Fleming added, 
as he lounged against a tree and munched his 
chicken sandwich contemplatively. “When 
I saw you coming I told the boys we must 
make ourselves scarce for you all looked as 
if you were bent on private and particular 
business.” 

“Oh! we never expect to own — all the land- 
scape,” Sylvia broke in. She was all smiles 
and ripples now. “Accidents will happen to 
the best-laid plans, you know.” 

Jago gave one of his irrepressible guffaws 
at this and Sylvia flushed. 

“I mean only a compliment,” she faltered. 

“Well, now that you are here,” Jane Trevor 
cried, as she danced about making every one 
comfortable as far as the scraps would go, 
“we might as well have a game or two and 
lighten the occasion. I’m rather pining, my- 
self, for a Duck-on-the-Rock ogre.” 

The second luncheon was soon over and the 
spot cleared for action and before long the 
group looked like a preconceived and well- 
carried-out picnic party. 

Duck-on-the-Rock and “Follow Your 


ALONE WITH SALLY 


183 


Leader,” were indulged in and then a Fox 
and Hound game was added. Suddenly 
Miss Rose said: 

“I dislike making myself disagreeable, but 
— what — time is it?” 

“Time? Time?” asked Sporty. “Time? 
What is Time?” He was standing on the 
roek near the mouth of the cave and as he 
spoke a low rumbling roar replied. 

“Thunder!” moaned Joy, “Thunder and 
we are out of doors!” She looked pitifully at 
Miss Rose. 

“I thought it was something beside time 
that was darkening the earth,” Sporty laugh- 
ingly said. 

“But we are outdoors!” Joy repeated. 
“Outdoors and miles from home.” 

“There’s the cave,” Mr. Fleming suggested. 
He noticed Joy’s pale little face and indeed it 
was better for all to be under cover for the 
darkness was coming fast; the shower was 
near at hand. 

“Make for shelter!” ordered Jago. “The 
cave isn’t half bad. Here, I’ll take in some 
wood. Sporty, and you, Goo and Woe, 
bundle up those things and run them in. 
Now, then, ladies first!” 


184 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


The girls and Miss Rose squeezed them- 
selves into the opening and the boys and Mr. 
Fleming followed. 

Once inside Joy gathered a little courage, 
but with the first lurid flash of lightning, she 
gave a shriek and hid her head in Miss Rose’s 
lap. The outcry unnerved every one and a 
silence followed, while the darkness grew 
denser and denser. 

“We’ll try to build a fire,” said Jago from 
the gloom of the far side of the cave. They 
heard him laying the wood and striking a 
match. Then came another blinding flash of 
lightning and a sudden crash of thunder. 
Joy only moaned now. The little blaze rose 
comfortingly and did its best, under Jago’s 
care, to cheer the dim, shadowy cave. The 
smoke rose through the opening in the roof 
and presently a glow and warmth made them 
all feel better. 

“Boys come in handy,” said Nancy with a 
quiver in her voice. 

“Thanks, ma’am!” Jago called out from his 
shadows. “And from the shade of the black- 
ness I fancy the storm is passing. It is only 
a pale shade of blackness now.” 


THE MELLER DRAMMER 


201 


Causes!” Jane hurriedly put in — “it’s — for — 
for!” She looked helplessly at Tod. 

“Nothing in the world but fun,” said he, 
“but the money will be given to village im- 
provement — and your name will head the list. 
Think how it will sound!” 

“Timothy Dallas Two-fifty for town im- 
provements!” Uncle Silas took up the cudgels, 
“and I reckon Andrew Smith seeing that will 
go you one better.” 

At this Silas bridled. Smith was his sworn 
enemy and had the adjacent farm. 

“One — what?” he asked. 

“One — row!” nodded Jane with a radiant 
and innocent smile. “One row for Mr. Dal- 
las; two rows for Mr. Smith! Doesn’t that 
sound public-spirited?” 

“I guess if Smith can stand for two rows 
I can!” 

“Two rows for Mr. Dallas — five dollars!” 
Tod was getting his tickets out. “Two rows 
for Mr. Smith — five dollars!” 

“Ten dollars at the first!” bubbled Jane, 
“why the hall will be packed and by the best 
people! It will be such an inspiration.” 

“How’s them tickets going to be paid for?” 
Dallas asked. 


202 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“In — in money!” Sylvia put in dazedly. 
“What’s five dollars, Mr, Dallas? Five little 
dollars when you’re thinking of your — your 
perfectly beautiful village?” 

“When has it got to be paid?” further 
asked Dallas, his little eyes snapping. 

“Right now!” Tod exclaimed reaching over 
Silas with the twenty tickets. “Here are your 
tickets, Mr. Dallas, and now — where is your 
fiver?” 

What could a man do with those two pretty 
girls, the free and easy young man and Silas 
Thomas looking on? 

“How do I know that Tim Smith will take 
five dollars’ worth?” Dallas withheld his 
money. 

“We’ll come back and tell you. Perhaps 
he’ll outbid you for public favor and — then,” 
Tod waved the tickets — “it’s up to you to — 
spread yourself on another row!” 

Uncle Silas shook with laughter. 

“Ten chances to one the play won’t be worth 
shucks!” Dallas was unrolling some bills and 
skinning off a five dollar note. 

“Oh! Mr. Dallas, and with us all in the 
meller drammer? How you do hurt our feel- 
ings.” Tod exchanged tickets for money. 


THE MELLER DRAMMER 


203 


“I beg your pardon, ladies.” Dallas looked 
embarrassed. “I ain’t doubting but what 
you’ll do your part. Good morning! Good 
morning!” 

“Pretty snappy work!” Tod remarked as 
they drove off, “a few more sales like this and 
we’ll have to repeat the play.” 

“After Tim Smith,” Silas said urging the 
horse onward, “it will be a ticket or two here 
and there and slow work. Smith and Dallas 
are at each other’s throats all the time. Both 
as mean as dirt, both hating to be outdone by 
the other. Git up! old Bone Yard” (the 
horse was plump and shiny), “you’ll get your 
money’s worth at Tim’s!” 

Timothy Smith was in his barn and Uncle 
Silas drove right up to the big open door. 

“Well, Tim,” he said, “I suppose you’ve 
heard about the play down to the Corners on 
the 20th. This is some of the troupe.” 

Smith took off his hat. He couldn’t have 
told why, but Sylvia and Jane seemed to de- 
mand it of him. 

“I saw the poster in the store,” he admitted, 
“but I didn’t take much interest. I ain’t a 
play-going man.” 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


204 


“But this is different,” Sylvia said smiling 
sweetly. “We give our services for the public 
good and all we ask you to do is to come and 
enjoy yourselves.” 

“Meller-drammer,” put in Tod serenely; 
“no nerve-racking spectacle ; no moving picture 
show — just plain meller-drammer.” 

Smith hadn’t the slightest idea what “mel- 
ler-drammer” was, but he did not want to 
show his ignorance. 

“Dallas knows what’s what.” Uncle Silas 
gently added. “He planked down five dollars 
for twenty seats for meller-drammer. Shake- 
speare couldn’t tempt him, but meller-dram- 
mer brought down his coin double quick. One 
who ain’t seen this kind of tragedy, shouldn’t 
miss it.” 

Smith plunged his hands in his pockets and 
his face had a vague, helpless expression that 
almost set Tod Nilson off into one of his 
alarming roars. 

“Waal, I suppose that is so!” Smith re- 
marked, his eyes shifting from one face to the 
other. “Most acting I hold as demoralizing 
and worthless; but meller-drammer has this 
to say for itself, it is meller-drammer!” 


THE MELLER DRAMMER 


205 


“Exactly!” Jane cried. “Oh! how well you 
have put it, Mr. Smith, You must be a good 
critic.” 

“Waal, I be!” Timothy grinned, “from a 
hoss down I am a good critic. I can’t see, 
though,” — he grew thoughtful. “How Dal- 
las could shell out five dollars even for meller- 
drammer; that fence of his joining — or 
dividing his west meadow from mine needs 
mending like all creation, but if Dallas can 
spread himself like thunderation, there ain’t 
any sense in me holding back. How much be 
the tickets. Miss?” His eyes were upon Syl- 
via. 

“Twenty-five cents a piece. One row of 
seats two-fifty; two rows of seats five-fifty!” 

“Five dollars!” corrected Tod severely. 

“See here, young man!” Smith ejaculated, 
beaming upon Sylvia: “Five-fifty it is if she 
says so! Five-fifty, Miss, and here’s the 
cash!” 

“Oh!” Sylvia clapped her hands delighted- 
ly ; “and when I look down from the stage and 
see you, Mr. Smith, how I will act!” 

“That’s too easy!” Tod complained as they 
turned again into the road; “to bowl the old 


206 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


dodger over that way, Sylvia Dean, was posi- 
tively immoral.” 

“I never can figure!” Sylvia pouted; “I 
didn’t mean to cheat him.” 

“You figure all too well,” Jane laughed. 
“I pity your grandfather.” 

The rest of the sales were tame compared 
to the first ones. The party drove back to 
tell Mr. Dallas of Smith’s purchase, but all 
Dallas remarked was: 

“More fool he! But if he can afford to 
splurge that way he’ll have his part of the 
fence on the west medder done quick and 
proper!” 

When the party reached home in the early 
twilight, half the town hall had been bought 
and paid for. 

“I never had so much fun before!” said 
Jane slipping into a cool every-day dress; “I’d 
like to peddle all the rest of my life.” 

The day following, the sales were fewer and 
not so uplifting. Religious prejudice was en- 
countered and New England obstinancy. 

“Be you going to have — stage setting to that 
play?” asked one old lady. 

“Oh, yes!” Jane replied jubilantly think- 
ing this would add to the charm. 


THE MELLER DRAMMER m 

“Well, then, I don’t want nothing to do 
with it. I like speechifying and oratating 
with a few gestures, and I like plain singing 
and pianerforte-ing, but when it comes to 
stage setting I draw the line. That’s flat- 
footed theater and no Christian person ought 
to encourage it right here in this town. It’s 
real polluting to our young people.” 

“Now what do you think of that?” gasped 
Tod. “When we’re trying to uplift the youth 
of the Corners !” 

But the old lady drove them from her pres- 
ence. Sylvia’s beauty and Jane’s charm could 
not move her. She had her “opinion of Silas 
Thomas,” and as for Tod Nilson, “he 
was a downright, flat-footed scamp with his 
jokes and imperdence to one old enough to be 
his grandmother and aching to spank him.” 

The day dragged and only ten tickets were 
sold, but on the way home the Rural Free 
Delivery man met them and handed a soiled 
and damaged envelope to Sylvia. The post- 
mark was blurred but Sylvia took no heed of 
that. She tore the envelope open and out 
dropped three, crisp, five dollar bills! “Kind- 
ly reserve three rows of seats — ten in a row — 
for A Friend!” 


208 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


This was written on a slip of paper enfold- 
ing the bills. 

“Well, did you ever!” gasped Jane. 

“Perhaps it’s for some one we don’t want 
there,” suggested Tod rather appalled at the 
sudden downpour of blessings. 

“We’ll put them out then,” Sylvia briskly 
joined in. 

“If they get in on false pretenses we’ll — 
remove them.” 

“And give them back their money?” Jane 
eyed the bills ruefully. 

“Not at all. They have no business to re- 
sort to underhand methods. Here, Tod, take 
the money and save — three rows!” 

Sylvia’s manner in dealing with money even 
yet savored of high-handed piracy — it always 
made Tod Nilson, who was something of a free 
lance himself, shudder and take heed. What 
he did largely, himself, held a new significance 
when he saw it in another. Little Jane’s 
picturesque economics; Margaret Lee’s more 
strenuous ones and Jim Nichols’ sturdy inde- 
pendence were beginning to have a whole- 
some effect upon Sporty. 

“It’s great,” he said, apparently apropos of 


THE MELLER DRAMMER 


209 


nothing, “to work out your salvation as we all 
are doing this summer.” 

Sylvia stared at him, but Jane nodded her 
head understandingly while her eyes looked 
afar over the beautiful summer landscape that 
she loved and which, all too soon, she knew 
she must leave. 

The anonymous note and money caused a 
great excitement in the gray house that even- 
ing as the girls and Miss Rose sat around the 
lamp reading, working and talking. 

It was such a dear home evening. The 
early supper was over, the windows set wide 
to the sweet fresh air and a good book in Miss 
Rose’s hands. Now and then the reader 
would pause for discussion ; sometimes to 
speak of something quite foreign to the story. 
The girls were all sewing or doing fancy work 
and no happier, healthier group could have 
been found than that Camp Fire group. 

“Hear the wind in the Brave Pine,” said 
J ane, laying her work in her lap and listening. 
“It seems to me I shall hear it all my life and 
he the better for it. When the typewriter 
clashes hardest, it will soothe me; when my 
head aches from dictation, it will calm me — I 
just adore it!” 


210 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“I used to feel so lonesome when I heard 
it,” Sylvia admitted. “Many a night when 
we first came, I cried myself to sleep as I lis- 
tened to the plaintive sound — now it makes 
one think.” 

Miss Rose lifted her eyes to Sylvia. 
“Dear,” she said, “you have won your name. 
It takes a Dauntless one to stay on when she 
need not — and when it is bad enough to cause 
a tear- wet pillow. And it takes a Dauntless 
one to confess to such a thing and — it takes a 
Dauntless one to love to think!” 

“It’s a wonderful summer!” Sylvia bent 
over her work. 

“I was afraid I could not stand it,” Joy 
broke in timidly; “I was afraid and fearfully 
dreary as soon as the shadows fell and now — ” 
She looked up confidently, “I’m a Happy 
Bird all right !” 

Every one laughed. 

“When the Wap uses slang,” Nancy cried, 
“it becomes classic. As for plain folks like 
the Cricket, Swift Foot and your humble 
Nameless, this life suits us — not down to the 
ground, but up to the stars. Isolation is what 
my simple artistic nature needs; Swift Foot 


THE MELLER DRAMMER 


211 


has developed magnificently — note her chesty 
appearance and as for the Cricket — to hear 
her warble in the church choir is a thing never 
to be forgotten. She brought tears to many 
a hardened eye when she trilled forth last Sun- 
day, ‘Watchman, tell us of the night!’ ” 

“It was beautiful, Jane, dear. I wonder 
if we could not have a verse or two now?” 
Miss Rose asked. 

Jane went at once to the piano. 


“Watchman, tell us of the Night, 

Higher yet that Star ascends. 

Traveler, blessedness and light. 

Peace and truth its course portends. 

Watchman, will its beams alone 

Gild the spot that gave them birth? 

Traveler, ages are its own: 

See! it bursts o’er all the earth.” 

Jane’s sweet, flute-like voice rose trium- 
phantly and then she turned suddenly on the 
stool and every one saw that there were tears 
in her bonny eyes. 

“I want — ” she faltered, “to see our star over 
the Brave Pine.” 

Nancy ran to her and put her arms around 
her. 


212 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Let’s all come,” she said. 

And there it was, their own bright star over 
the singing pine! Closer they drew together 
and it was Margaret Lee who spoke. 

“I think what this summer has meant to us 
will reach out and out — when we get home. I 
wish it could burst over all the earth — the 
earth of girls and dear Miss Roses! Oh! why 
can they not get together, rich girls, poor girls, 
beggar girls and — ” the eager, half-laughing 
voice paused. 

“And thief-girls, did you forget, Meg?” 
It was Sylvia who spoke from the dear shel- 
ter of little Jane’s embrace. 

“There are no thief -girls; there could be 
none in any dear Camp Fire Group.” 

“I think they couldn’t be — ^long,” Sylvia re- 
turned. “The loveliness and helpfulness 
would cure them. I think I’ve been a mean 
little thief of time and Grandfather’s money, 
but when I go home — you all will see!” 

“Dear, dear Sylvy!” breathed Jane. 

“Let us sing one of our beautiful songs — 
the blessedest of them all,” Miss Rose spoke; 
“lead, our little Singing Cricket.” 


THE MELLER DRAMMER 


213 


‘‘Lay me to sleep in the sheltering flame, 

O Master of the Hidden Fire. 

Wash pure my heart, and cleanse for me 
My souFs desire.” 

The song floated sweetly through the sum- 
mer night and the flame-star overhead palpi- 
tated while the Brave Pine whispered. And 
then it was that Nancy saw Uncle Silas stand- 
ing by the house door with uncovered head and 
clasped hands holding his broad brimmed hat. 

From his day’s toil on his own little farm, 
he had come to watch and rest, near them at 
night, that all might be safe and secure. How 
faithful he was; how patient and then Nancy 
wondered — what Ms story was! For every 
one, as Sally had taught her to believe, had a 
story hidden away in his heart as all houses 
had their stories. 

“I’m going to And out some of these stories,” 
Nancy’s thoughts ran on; “they are better 
than all the make-believe stories in all the fairy 
tales.” 


CHAPTER XI 

UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 

And after all it was little Jane Trevor who 
found out about Uncle Silas and she did it 
via Mercy Flanders! Jane did not know it 
was a big, vital story she had and when she 
told it laughingly to Nancy she was surprised 
to see Nancy’s brown eyes grow misty. It all 
happened this way. One day after the read- 
ing in Mrs. Thorne’s parlor, when the other 
girls had left on their errands, Jane walked 
across the meadow, dividing Widow Thorne’s 
cottage from Mercy’s, with Mercy herself. 

“You’re coming to the play, Mercy, aren’t 
you?” she said. Mercy did not turn her head 
and her sunbonnet hid her face. 

“No, I ain’t. Miss Jane,” she said; “I don’t 
set up to be no society woman and washing 
and ironing ain’t the sort of job to permit one 
to buy society togs. I come from the best 
and I don’t knuckle down to none, but I know 
the fitness of things and what’s what. Be- 

2U 


UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 


215 


sides — there’s something else.” Her old face 
twitched. 

The reading of the afternoon had been a 
Scotch story of faithful love that endured even 
after death had separated the lovers. All the 
girls had glanced guiltily at Mercy and Sally 
Temple had grown quite white, and that was 
why Jane was walking home with Mercy. 
Her tender heart had ached for the lonely, 
homely woman whose story, unknown to her- 
self, was common property to them all. The 
Reading Circle had grown now until it em- 
braced all the girls and Miss Rose and was 
so popular that the Knights were begging to 
be permitted to come on “Gentlemen’s Days.” 

“What else, Mercy?” 

“I ain’t one to share my troubles. Miss 
Jane.” 

“But oh! Mercy, they are so much easier 
to bear. It’s like the old Bible yoke, when 
you put it upon two — it, the burden is lighter.” 

“That story this afternoon,” Mercy 
breathed hard, “joggled my feelings consider- 
able.” 

“We’ll have lighter, brighter things another 
day.” 


216 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Oh, it ain’t that. I ain’t against having 
my feelings messed with when it leaves me so 
tender as I be to-day.” 

And then Jane slipped her little brown 
hand and arm through Mercy’s. 

“Let bygones be bygones, says I,” Mercy 
went quiveringly on, “but I don’t see as one 
that has done a hard, bitter wrong to another 
has any right to go galivanting off into so- 
ciety and forgetting! I think the least you 
can do when you think you’ve done your duty 
— is to remember and fight it out alone.” 

“But, Mercy, don’t you see the very minute 
you get alone to fight things out, you’re cheat- 
ing some one else of — of your helpfulness and 
— fighting?” 

“I don’t foller you!” 

“Why, we girls have found that out this 
summer. Off there in our homes all living 
apart and just touching each other now and 
then, we could not know how each needed the 
other. But now we know and in all our lives 
we are never going to forget, and what’s more 
we are going — ” Jane paused. 

“Well — our dear ceremony has said it like 
this: 


UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 

'That light which was given to me^ 

I desire to pass undimmed to others^’ 

and we’re going to do it, tool” There was a 
sweet fierceness in Jane’s voice. “There are 
many dear brave young Nancys in the 
world, and brave Sylvias trying to see their 
paths into the better way, and funny little 
shams of Joys who only need companionship 
to make them real and splendid. Megs to 
teach us all unselfishness and courage and 
Marys and Sallys and blessed Miss Roses to 
help. All they need is to get together and be 
■ — humans! Oh! Mercy, you cannot be a 
human if you shut yourself up in your shell.” 

Mercy plodded ahead stoically. 

“Now, Mercy, we want you to come to the 
play and there’s to be a dance afterward and 
refreshments. It’s going to be very jolly and 
get-together-ness. ’ ’ 

“I ain’t got a snitch of anything to wear.” 

“But Mrs. Thorne is going to buy a black 
lawn and Meg is going to help her make it.” 

“If Mis’ Thorne wants to lay aside her weeds 
for anything so frivolous,” Mercy muttered, 
“that’s her business.” 

“Mercy, please let me help you to fix some- 


^18 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


thing. I am a dabster at making something 
out of nothing. I’ve done it ever since my 
Father died and if I do say it. Mother and I 
are as well dressed as most. You must have 
something, Mercy, that, with a bit of freshen- 
ing up, will look beautiful. Please, Mercy!” 

They were near the little three-room house 
now. The weekly “wash” of the Camp Brave 
Pine, was flapping sweet and dazzling from 
the lines back of the house; the scantily fur- 
nished living room was plainly seen through 
the open door. There were some late roses 
blooming in the little front yard and orderli- 
ness pervaded the tiny spot Mercy knew as 
home. 

“If you don’t mind coming in. Miss Jane,” 
she said, “I’ll show you a sprigged muslin I 
have. I ain’t worn it since before the war 
but it’s kept something wonderful.” 

Jane pressed the thin arm under her own. 

“Lavender and tissue paper are great pre- 
servers,” Mercy went on. “I’ve alias ’lowed 
I’d be buried in the sprigged muslin. It ain’t 
what you might call giddy and a little toning 
down would make it decent. I was never 
one to be over particular about after-details. 


UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 


219 


But as I was thinking just now, I don’t know 
as it would hurt the muslin to be worn once 
more and it ain’t likely folks would remember 
it — the association being so different.” 

And now they were in the daintily clean liv- 
ing room; the bare, yet sweet room where 
Mercy lived her lonely life apart. 

“You set in the rocker by the window. Miss 
Jane, and I’ll fetch in the muslin.” 

Jane swayed to and fro in the big wooden 
rocker with its cushions of gaudy calico. She 
thought of Mercy’s dead soldier and the long- 
ago tragedy and then Mercy came back. Rev- 
erently in her outstretched hands she held the 
sprigged muslin; the simple gown of more 
than half a century ago! It was older than 
little Jane’s Mother; older than any garment 
Jane had ever seen and yet love and remorse 
and sorrow had helped lavender and paper to 
preserve it to this day when a little stranger- 
friend would find a use for it. 

“How pretty it is!” Jane exclaimed, “and 
quite up-to-date. Why, Mercy, not long ago 
in one of our shops, I saw some goods very 
much like this — only not so dainty. I love 
violet on white ground. Let’s try it on!” 


220 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“I ain’t said I was going to do what you 
suggest,” Mercy drew back. 

“No. But I know you are because you are 
so — so human, Mercy!” 

“I’m thinner than I was fifty-odd years 
ago.” 

“We can take in the seams, Mercy.” 

“And my chest has fell considerable. I’m 
real flat chested now. I used to be real 
chicken-breasted.” 

“I have the sweetest piece of lace,” Jane 
was handling the muslin with the touch of an 
artist, “just the thing for this.” 

“I ain’t one to accept favors. Miss Jane.” 

“No. But lace is different. What’s a 
piece of lace between friends?” 

“You certainly are real comical. Miss 
Jane,” Mercy was smiling grimly; “real 
comical and diverting.” 

“Besides if you want to pay me for it you 
can,” added Jane, “give me that cracked blue 
teapot you said you were going to throw 
away. I’m daffy over that ware. I know a 
man at home who can mend it and Mother 
will be radiant when she sees it on the plate 
rail. There! Mercy, I declare! The dress 
isn’t a bad fit as it is. You look fine!” 









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UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 


221 


The sprigged muslin was on the tall, thin 
form and Jane stood off to get the effect. 
Her pretty head was on one side and her eyes 
were full of meditation. 

“A little fluff of lace here!” she touched the 
fallen chest, “and a bunch of purple asters! 
Take the skirt up a trifle and edge the bottom 
ruffle with narrow Val. — Sylvia has yards of it! 
Miss Mercy, you must let Joy Deering dress 
your hair the night of the play. What Joy 
cannot do with hair isn’t worth doing. She 
does ours and she is a wonder.” 

“Fix my hair!” gasped Mercy, “no one ain’t 
touched my head but myself for — for — ” 

“Well, after Joy does it once you’ll never 
have to say that again. And oh! Mercy, I 
have a string of purple beads. I’ll throw them 
in with the lace for that love of a teapot!” 

Mercy was gazing at her reflection in the 
narrow mirror between the windows. 

“Fine feathers!” she murmured, “do make 
fine birds. I meant to make this frock do me 
for summer Sundays even after — after some- 
thing happened that I don’t talk about — and 
once I did have it on and Silas Thomas ad- 
mired it and he — he said things that made me 


222 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


mad and that was the last time this muslin’s 
seen the eyes of man! I guess, though, that 
Silas wouldn’t remember and besides he ain’t 
the dolt he onee was. Silas, when he was 
young, never would see things as other folks 
did. He was alias one to hold to one thing 
and never look fore or aft — that’s why he’s 
pegging along like he is. He was never one 
to — get on!” 

That evening as Jane and Nancy were pre- 
paring the evening meal, the conversation of 
the afternoon was repeated. 

“She called dear old Uncle Silas a dolt!” 
Jane said beating the Sally Limn briskly in 
the deep yellow dish. “And isn’t it queer. 
Nan, to think of two really ancient people like 
Mercy and Uncle Silas, as young and — like 
us?” 

Nancy came from the dining room where 
she had just finished setting the table. She 
came over and stood beside Jane, the late aft- 
ernoon sun falling full upon her strong, lithe 
young body. 

“How did Uncle Silas get mixed up with 
Mercy?” she asked. “Don’t you mean — Sam 
Saunders?” 


UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 223 

“Why, Nan, Mercy must have been a real 
belle, a regular ‘cut-up’ as Tod Nilson would 
say. There was Sam Saunders and she is 
grieving for him yet, but there was Uncle 
Silas too. A young Uncle Silas. An Uncle 
Silas who admired sprigged muslins and was 
a dolt!” 

Then it was that the mist rose to Nancy’s 
eyes. 

“Why,” she said, ‘Hhat is Uncle Silas’ 
story!” 

“Eh?” Jane poised her long spoon in air. 

“Sam Saunders’ story was all wrapped 
away under the old flag that Mercy tore off. 
She only thinks she loved Sam Saunders — I 
can see it as plain as plain, and it is Uncle 
Silas that she has been fighting off all these 
years. The New England people are all like 
that. They are afraid to be happy and com- 
fortable. They’re afraid it is sinful. Any- 
thing that’s easy is — of — of the devil!” 

“Why, Nancy Mowbray!” 

“That’s it, Jane; you are New England 
yourself. Just see how shocked you are at a 
little free and easy speech. Be careful! you 
are smutching that batter all over the table! 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Now, Jane, listen to me! You have the most 
practical soul in your body but you haven’t a 
grain of romance ; still we must use every one’s 
talents and you make Mercy Flanders simply 
— stunning! I’ll do the rest.” 

“Nancy — what are you up to?” 

Jane tried to look stern as she slapped the 
light batter into the hot pan and dashed it in- 
to the oven. 

“Just a big — adventure.” Nancy’s eyes 
were fixed out of doors — she saw the golden, 
mellow sunset light, the purple shadows nes- 
tling in the curves and hollows of old Lafayette 
Mountain; she smelt the sweet odor of new 
mown hay and a hermit thrush was singing 
somewhere in the dim woods behind the house. 

“Janey, I just love what the minister 
preached about last Sunday — ‘and at even 
there was light!’ — wouldn’t it be perfectly 
splendid if we, just we Camp Fire girls, could 
help poor old Uncle Silas and Mercy Flanders 
to — see things?” Jane came to the window 
and stood beside Nancy. 

“I see what you mean,” she said, “but I 
only know things that our books tell about and 
■ — and Mercy and Uncle Silas are so old.” 


UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 


225 


“Books!” Nancy tossed her head. “Books! 
when you have this to teach you.” She 
stretched her strong young arms wide to the 
tender beauty of the late day. “Books ! What 
are books after all? Just suppose — ” and the 
low voice trailed off gently. 

“Oh! me, oh, my!” shrieked Jane dashing 
to the stove, “my Sally Lunn! my Sally 
Lunn.” 

“Sally Lunn!” Nancy sniffed. “How can 
you think of Sally Lunn in the face of this 
great human interest?” 

“Pish!” Jane retorted with some spirit, 
“you can’t eat human interest and there isn’t 
a loaf of bread in the house.” At this Nancy 
came back to earth. 

“Jane,” she commanded, “bring the cook 
book and more flour. I’ll repair the damage 
I brought about. But, incidentally, don’t let’s 
forget the possibilities near at hand. All 
these long years Uncle Silas and Mercy have 
been plodding along in the dark, just as Mr. 
Fleming said so many people do and now when 
it is evening time, just suppose they both saw 
things? There would be no lonely Mercy 
Flanders being helped by the town until her 


226 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


proud soul grows bitter. No fussy, dear 
Uncle Silas working hard and losing spirit 
because he has no one to save for. There 
would be one nice comfy home and two new 
people just getting their Christmas present 
on New Year’s day instead of the 25th of De- 
cember ! 

“My, Janey Trevor! what a summer this 
has been! We all are snarled up in each 
others’ lives and there are those funny boys 
down in the shack. They were just going 
to give up because they were so lonely. We, 
or Sylvia, touched their lives and now they are 
studying hard and loving it up here. Mr. 
Fleming isn’t anjdhing like as hungry, body 
or soul, as he was and it all came about be- 
cause blessed Miss Rose had a vision that day 
back in June. Now then! Janey, open the 
oven door. I may have flighty spells, but I 
can slap a batch of biscuits together almost 
as Well as Knight Jago.” 

Jane closed the oven door on the promising 
pan of light balls and came over to Nancy 
beside the western window again. 

“I want to tell you something. Nan. I 
don’t snoop as you know, but I have a sense 


UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 


227 


about some things and I can spy a — a possi- 
bility with the best of you. Nancy, have you 
noticed anything about Mr. Fleming and — 
and — Miss Rose?” 

Nancy sat upon the edge of the table swing- 
ing her feet and as Jane spoke she grew sud- 
denly stiU. 

“Now, see here, Jane Trevor,” she said smil- 
ing broadly, “you can’t make me spoil my pan 
of biscuits, you little vixen! One mistake of 
that kind is enough for us. Mr. Fleming and 
Miss Rose! You sacrilegious imp! Leave 
such things to your betters!” 

“Nancy, I’m in dead earnest.” 

“Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself 
and you should have your ears boxed.” 

“I don’t care what you say — I heard — ” 

“I never talk private affairs with menials 
hut — Jane Trevor, what do you mean?” 

“Well, I heard him tell her the story of his 
life the other day. I was reading in the arhor 
and they were there too. Mr. Fleming did 
not think I counted so he went right on. He’s 
had a pretty plucky life, if I do say so. 
Worked his way through college; waited on 
table while his inferiors ate. He didn’t say 


228 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


that but Miss Rose did and her eyes were shin- 
ing. And then he said that he chose the minis- 
try because it seemed the best way to help peo- 
ple where they needed most to be helped. 
Those were his words. And Miss Rose said 
she taught kindergarten because she felt it a 
great work to start the buds right. Those 
were her words ; you know how she looks when 
she talks about her kindergarten? And then 
Mr. Fleming said he wished he could help her; 
help the buds after they got out into the world. 
It was perfectly beautiful to hear them talk 
and me trying to read that stupid book. And 
Nan, I was just thinking wouldn’t it be great, 
simply great, if they two saw light in the 
middle of the afternoon?” 

Nancy’s mouth hung wide. Jane had taken 
her by surprise. 

“What would become of that kindergar- 
ten?” she gasped. 

“And — and us and all who simply worship 
Miss Rose? Jane, you’re like all practical 
people, when you let go you are — monstrous! 
Do you smell — biscuits?” 

They both ran to the oven and looked in. 
“Perfect” was the verdict and then they 


UNCLE SILAS’ STORY 


229 


lighted the side lamps over the table for the 
twilight was falling and shutting in the dear 
little home under the Brave Pine so full of 
hopes and youth and gayety and love. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE SOCIAL EVENT OF THE SEASON 

It was the night of the play and the Corners 
had indulged in early suppers and then made 
ready for the great occasion. The girls and 
Miss Rose had dressed early and at six o’clock, 
all but Joy and Jane, had gone to the village 
Hall. Joy was dressing Miss Mercy Flan- 
ders’ hair while Jane put the finishing touches 
to the sprigged muslin. There were two kero- 
sene lamps and four candles illuminating the 
living room and Widow Thorne in a new 
gown sat as audience and critic. 

“Lands! Mercy,” she commented as Joy 
gave a deft twist to the long strand of hair 
she held, “I never knowed you was blest with 
such a suit of hair. Combing it back as you 
have and knotting it so tight has been real de- 
ceiving and you ain’t got more than a dozen 
gray hairs and you over sixty — if you are a 
day.” 

“You look about thirty — !” Joy broke in, 

230 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


231 


“and your hair is beautiful. The shampoo 
this morning makes it fluffy and shining — you 
must follow the directions I have given you. 
Brown soap and plain water are awful for the 
hair. There! look, Janey, isn’t she — im- 
mense?” 

Jane Trevor came to Mercy with the gown. 

“Now — for triumph!” she cried. “Bend 
low, Mercy, I do not want to touch a hair. 
There!” 

The violet and white garment fell in soft 
lines about the angular form and the bunch of 
lace and asters gave character to the shapeless 
body. 

Mercy flushed as she saw her reflection and 
the expression in her pale face. 

“I don’t know about the beads!” Mercy 
looked lingeringly at the string in Joy’s 
hands. 

“Your neck’s considerable stringy,” Mrs. 
Thorne suggested, not unkindly. 

“These beads must be worn,” Jane insisted. 
“Her throat is a bit thin, but thinness is fash- 
ionable.” 

Mrs. Thorne bridled for her own form was 
ample and broad. 


232 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Now people with shorter necks, plump 
people like you, Mrs. Thorne, only need a 
ruffle of lace; Mercy has to he built up.” 

The plumpness saved the hour! 

“I’ve always allowed,” the widow said, 
“that Mercy was better looking than what she 
gave out” — this was very generous — “most 
women set up a false alarm about their looks, 
but Mercy has always hid her light under a 
bushel basket.” 

“And at evening,” Jane hummed to her- 
self as she put a pin here and a touch there, 
“at evening there was light.” 

Then when the grooming was over, the four 
walked down the meadow path to the Corners. 
It was very sweet and calm and a new moon 
hung low in the August sky. 

“They do say,” Widow Thorne imparted 
as they stepped across the stone wall dividing 
the meadow from the road, “that Smith and 
Dallas have just outdid themselves fflling up 
their seats to-night. After family and friends 
give out they took the old ladies from the 
Alms House. The inmates were powerful 
excited I heard.” 

“And,” Mercy was striding ahead like a 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


233 


grenadier, “Mr. Temple told me that there be 
a sight of folks at the Inn. They came in 
automobiles. The whole town is a-stir.” 

Joy thought of the unknown sender of the 
fifteen dollars and nudged Jane. 

“I do hope horrid people are not taking this 
in for— for fun!” she whispered. 

Widow Thorne and Mercy gave their 
tickets in at the front door of the hall and 
passed to the front seats. They were early 
and only a few village boys and girls were 
ahead of them. Jane and Joy, as actors, 
went to the stage door. 

“At eight sharp,” so The Corners’ Sentinel 
said the next day, “the curtain went up be- 
fore a packed house.” 

And so it did. Every seat was taken and 
Uncle Silas as shopkeeper in the famous play 
of Then and Now, beamed under his false eye- 
brows and grinned through his false beard. 

The stage was well set as the inside of the 
village store. So realistic was it that Pa 
Temple from a rear seat exploded into clap- 
pings and a boy in the corner called out : 

“I say, ain’t that going some?” This rude 
outburst was quelled by popular disapproval. 


234 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Uncle Silas took his place on a sugar barrel 
and whittled the traditional New England 
stick with a huge jack knife. One after an- 
other the villagers came in to buy things. 

“I declare if that ain’t the spit of Mis’ Al- 
len,” Merey whispered to Mrs. Thorne, “and 
it’s Miss Margaret if I don’t miss my guess. 
She’s got Mis’ Allen’s gingham frock on.” 

“And,” murmured Mrs. Thorne, “there you 
be, Mercy Flanders, as true as life even to 
your sunbonnet.” 

Mercy looked aghast as Joy Deering im- 
personating her, asked the store keeper for 
a pound of lard and entered into conversation 
about the youth of the village. 

That was the plan of the play. The first 
act was a representation of Compton Corners 
rather down at the heel with the village boys 
and girls hanging aimlessly about. There 
was some really bright lines for Goo and 
Nancy had outdone themselves in eonversa- 
tion. Jago as Mr. Fleming brought down 
the house and Nancy as the severe parent of 
a boy who wouldn’t obey, was eharming. 
Compton Corners saw itself in that first act 
as stranger eyes saw it and it didn’t know 
whether to be amused or indignant. 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


235 


“It’s real play acting,” said Deacon Jones 
to Pa Temple, “and if the parson stands for 
such doings we’ll be a blot on the circuit.” 

“It don’t seem quite good enough to be 
harmful,” Pa replied broadly; “it’s just a 
harmless take-off and I have long held some- 
thing ought to be done to get the boys and 
girls off the roads and away from the store at 
night. It looks considerable comical the way 
these young people have done it, but it has 
truth in it.” 

Between the first and second acts the actors 
gathered in the cool shed back of the haU and 
talked together. 

“Who were in those rows way in the rear?” 
Sylvia asked; “the paint got in my eyes and 
I couldn’t see.” 

“It was too dim to distinguish them,” Nancy 
replied changing Mercy’s sunbonnet for a 
modern hat. “There were two old gentlemen, 
I saw their white hair and there was a woman 
and I think a boy!” 

“Folks from over Belmore way,” Uncle 
Silas put in. “Hotel folks, what wanted to 
take in anything that was going on.” 

The second act was Compton Corners Re- 


236 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


deemed! There was the Club room that Mr. 
Fleming wanted. Books, games and merry 
young people filled the stage. They had a 
jolly time and when the older people entered 
all modernized and up-to-date, yet each keep- 
ing his or her own peculiarities, the audience’s 
enthusiasm knew no bounds. 

“I say,” yelled an untrammeled youth, “see 
us fixed up and doing things. Ain’t that 
grand?” 

The play was a great success. The curtain 
fell upon flushed and triumphant actors and 
the people were liberal and noisy with ap- 
plause. 

Woe and Sporty as village youths had been 
side splitting in their lines. Jago and Miss 
Rose as Mr. Fleming and “The Lady from 
Town,” had taken the on-lookers by storm. 
The clapping was kept up and in a body the 
company went before the curtain. Their 
eyes were more used to the lights by that time 
and the audience had moved forward and then 
from out the confusion a clear childish voice 
cried excitedlj'^ : 

“I say, Nancy, we are all here!” 

Nancy turned quite pale as she gazed upon a 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


237 


small boy scrambling over seats in his effort to 
reach the stage. 

“Me and Dad and Mother! Judge Conly’s 
here, too, and Mr. Grandfather of Sylvia 
Dean. Joy’s Mother is here, too. Oh! it’s, 
it’s bully!” 

“Support me!” hoarsely whispered Nancy 
to Sylvia; “hold me up!” But Sylvia was in 
need of support herself. 

“Grandfather!” she cried joyously reaehing 
out her arms to the tall, silver-haired old gen- 
tle man coming forward; “oh! my Grand- 
father, dear!” 

And surely there they all were and Bobbie 
Mowbray very mueh there, for he had scam- 
pered upon the stage and was hugging his 
sister rapturously. 

No one in Compton Corners ever forgot the 
dance which followed the play. The Virginia 
Reel was so long that the musician at the 
sereechy piano was tired out. All the new- 
eomers daneed and even Merey Flanders 
succumbed at last, and, dropping into line, 
found herself face to face with Uncle Silas! 

Nancy had adroitly arranged this and she 
glowed with satisfaetion as she saw Unele 


238 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Silas’ absorbed and surprised gaze fixed upon 
Mercy’s changed appearance. 

Sylvia’s grandfather led with the widow 
Thorne and even Bobbie Mowbray outdid him- 
self as he capered about with Sally and Nancy 
and their friends. It was after ten o’clock 
when the party broke up and the receipts 
counted, for many tickets had been bought at 
the door. 

“Fifty dollars and seventy-five cents!” an- 
nounced Mr. Fleming with shining face; “but 
better than this even — ^you have helped to give 
them a new ideal. They will not forget the 
pictures of the play.” He said this to Miss 
Rose and her face was shining, too. 

“Do you know,” she replied, looking clearly 
into the eyes of the young minister, “when 
I was a bit tired back there in town and had a 
yearning for the dear old hills of my girlhood, 
I saw these girls needing just what I had once 
had — freedom, simplicity and rest. They 
did not realize it, but they did and then we 
came! We did not dream that our coming 
would open new ways of service — we only 
thought of ourselves then and I do believe it 
is the precious Camp Fire sentiment that has 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


239 


brought these wonders about. The yearning 
for passing the light on, undimmed; the co- 
operation and the fun of all-together-ness ! 
It’s quite wonderful.” 

“Yes; quite wonderful,” Mr. Fleming re- 
peated and his tired face brightened again. 
“I cannot think what it will seem like here at 
the Corners when you all go back — you and 
the boys!” 

“It’s only August now!” Miss Rose com- 
forted. 

Of course the visitors who had so mysteri- 
ously dropped down upon Compton Corners 
went back to the Belmore hotel that night in 
their two automobiles, but they arranged to 
spend the next day at Camp Brave Pine and 
give an account of themselves. 

“Perhaps you’d like to go home with us?” 
Sylvia’s Grandfather whispered. 

“If you want — me, too!” But the old gen- 
tleman saw disappointment in the healthy, 
young face and strange to say his heart grew 
light within him. 

“Want you?” he said; “not a bit of it. I’m 
having a free, happy time since I broke away 
from your apron strings, miss. I intend to 


240 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


make the most of it until you insist upon com- 
ing back; but I warn you! when you and I 
take up our residence together again, I mean 
to enjoy your society more, for you begin to 
look — ” he pinched her firm, round cheek — “in- 
teresting!” 

“And Joy, dear, are you ready to go back 
with Mother?” 

Mrs. Deering had a hungry look in her 
eyes. 

“I think you better leave me a bit longer, 
Motherlie,” Joy whispered; “you better clinch 
it!” 

“I’d he jolly glad to stay on!” cried Bobbie 
enviously, “it’s ripping.” 

“Small boys not admitted!” Nancy shook 
her finger at him. 

The next day at ten, Margaret and Nancy 
from the pine tree lookout, announced that 
two automobiles had “tied up” at the pasture 
bars and several people and one scampering 
boy were on the way up. 

“It’s the scampering boy we’ve got to be 
ready for,” said Nancy letting herself nimbly 
down from limb to limb of the tree. “Scoot 
to your wigwam oh! worthy Swift Foot and 
don your war paint and feathers.” 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


241 


They had all worked from early sun-up and 
the dining room was a bower of beauty and the 
table set daintily. Many cooks had not 
spoiled a single thing and the pantry and cool- 
cellar groaned with goodies. Each girl had 
evolved her “specialty” in pride of achieve- 
ment. 

“And at night the Ceremonial and Mary 
and Sally,” said Margaret as she ran with 
Nancy toward the house. “These be stirring 
times oh! great Nameless One.” 

“They be!” panted Nancy, “but I wish that 
nimble brother of mine were not so rapid; we 
must all be on the porch to welcome them.” 

And so they were. For, with other accom- 
plishments of the summer, the girls had learned 
to don their dress of ceremony at short notice 
and this would always enable them to per- 
form their toilets more quickly. 

Just when Bobbie Mowbray, hot and vic- 
torious, reached the crest of the hill he saw, 
somewhat to his amazement a band of Indians 
making for him. For a moment he was taken 
aback and he plunged his hands in his pockets 
and began to whistle. 

“Scared!” imparted Nancy; “I know the sig- 


242 CAMP BRAVE PINE 

nals. When he stops whistling the day is 
safe.” 

It was rather embarrassing for a hoy of ten, 
single-handed and alone, to face the motley 
crowd, but Bobbie did it after a fashion. He 
knew all about such doings ; he was no ignoble 
Boy Scout himself, but Bobbie was divided in 
his mind about girls availing themselves of the 
privileges that, for generations, had belonged 
to his sex. 

“They are copy cats!” one of his masculine 
friends had once said to him, but Bobbie had 
been loyal enough to disagree with this. 

“My sister isn’t a copy cat,” he had replied; 
“whatever she does will be something new. 
And why shouldn’t girls have a chance to do 
what they want? The whole world of fun 
doesn’t belong to us?” 

That had staggered the masculine mind and 
it had proved Bobbie a Man of the Future! 

But now he stood flushed and awkward be- 
fore this sturdy company in feathers and beads. 

“Gee!” he exclaimed. 

“Whiz!” added Nancy; “we know the 
countersign. Advance Pale Face and receive 
your welcome.” 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


243 


Bobbie made a dive for his sister and was 
enclosed in her strong, loving arms. He 
thought no shame to be seen there. Bobbie 
was a brother of which to be proud! 

And then the others came and under the 
sentinel pine they sat at ease after the greet- 
ings and inspection were over. All the chairs 
from the house were brought out and comfort 
made every one jolly. 

“Now!” said Miss Rose at last, as she poured 
cool lemonade in glasses for the girls to pass 
around ; “do let us hear all about it.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Deering, “I suppose I 
started it. I was hungry for a sight of Joy 
and as Mr. Deering and I were motoring about 
we ran across — not over — ^the Judge and Mr. 
Dean. We all owned up to being in the same 
boat — not automobile — and we got the Mow- 
brays to join us and spin up here. We had to 
drop Mr. Deering on account of business but 
we tried to get Mrs. Lee. She felt she could 
not leave the children but oh! what a change 
there is in her and them. They are having a 
glorious time and are fat and brown and 
strong!” 

Margaret’s eyes filled with happy tears. 


244 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


She had missed her ownest own from the joy- 
ful party, but she was such a dear that no one 
had guessed it until that moment. 

“I’m glad they are like — that!” she said 
happily. 

“And — hasn’t any one a word of my little 
Mother?” asked Jane, her big eyes bright and 
clear. 

Judge Conly patted her head; quite over- 
looking the fact that she was his stenographer 
and business helper. Jane looked very young 
and childish as she sat there in her Indian togs. 

“I can,” said the Judge. “That little 
mother of yours has developed remarkable 
traits. She’s found data for me I have been 
trying to get for years. No one ever doubts 
her and she gets them to open their hearts. 
The traveling and the country seem to agree 
with her. She says she has gained ten pounds 
since she started out even with all the interrup- 
tions and irregular meals.” 

“Mother was always a bit of a tramp!” Jane 
said in a little quivery voice; “she has often said 
that had she been less respectable she would 
have taken to the business of traveling sales- 
man.” 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


245 


Every one who knew Jane’s tender little 
mother laughed at this. 

“But I did not come on pleasure alone,” 
Judge Conly continued, sipping his lemonade; 
“I always have an eye open for business even 
in my holidays. I’m rather a severe, hard per- 
son.” 

Jane looked timidly up and smiled at the 
benign old face. “These parts,” the Judge 
went on, “were my family’s camping ground 
originally. Not five miles from here is my 
grandfather’s old farm. A family of Swedes 
have it now — a homesick, lonely lot, and they 
want to sell out ! I’ve made them an off er and 
I dare say it will be accepted and then I’ll have 
another white elephant on my hands! I’m 
always having my offers accepted.” 

The kind face looked comically helpless. 

“What am I to do with a farm up here in 
New Hampshire? It’s in good condition now; 
fine cow, horse and chickens. Good garden 
and all that — but where can I get any one to 
live on it ; take care of it and open it up for me 
when I take a fancy for the old home?” 

While Judge Conly was speaking, Jane’s 
little face underwent many changes. It 


246 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


flushed, grew pale, quivered and then 
strengthened for a purpose. 

“Judge Conly,” she faltered; “I — I have an 
eye for business — couldn’t Mother and I live 
up here? We’d care for everything and with 
one man — we could do wonders. I’m a 
country girl at heart. We could send you but- 
ter and eggs and always the house would be 
open when you cared to come.” 

The appeal was so sudden, so earnest and 
unexpected that every one looked surprised, 
but no one doubted the Cricket’s seriousness. 
She spoke breathlessly as if afraid the glorious 
opportunity might escape her. Judge Conly 
turned his keen eyes on the flushed, girlish 
face. 

“And lose my office helper and the best of 
traveling inspectors at one dash?” he asked. 

“But gain two caretakers and home 
makers!” Jane retorted. 

“It isn’t always summer in New Hamp- 
shire!” 

“Oh! Judge Conly, in winter it must be 
more heavenly. Think of the whiteness and 
purity; the starry nights and the open fires! 
You see when my father was ill with that lung 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 247 

trouble we lived, all of us, for two winters in 
a cottage among the Adirondack hills — I shall 
never forget the beauty and peace — I’ve been 
homesick for it ever since.” 

The little audience under the pine was very 
quiet. The jollity was hushed. Pretty Jane 
seemed to be pleading for more than a girlish 
enthusiasm. A deeper, sterner note rang in 
the appeal; every one had forgotten about 
Jane’s father and it almost seemed, now that 
they remembered, that Jane was asking for her 
chance to escape a danger. 

“Well! Well!” Judge Conly again laid 
his hand upon the ruddy, curly head; “we’ll 
see; we’ll see! It would be very nice, to be 
sure, to come — home! I’d have to pay high 
for such a luxury ; but we’ll consider it. Books 
and magazines would help tide people through 
the shut-in months and I’ve always contended 
that to love the country you have to have the 
city in your heart.” 

“Well, anyhow!” Bobbie Mowbray burst 
in, “this is bully and I’d like to see the chickens 
again.” 

With this break the company fell into the 
former vein of fun and play. 


248 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


The midday meal was spread out-of-doors 
under the pine and the arbor seats served as 
sideboards. There was much running back 
and forth and a good deal of merry joking. 
Sylvia’s Grandfather watched his little girl 
with growing amaze and delight. All her 
young-ladyish affectations were gone; she was 
a healthy girl and gave and took wdth the best. 
When she told him she had made and baked 
the delicious biscuits that every one was prais- 
ing he was as pleased as he had been when 
years ago, she played her first “piece” for him 
on the piano. 

“It’s the all-around girl I want!” he said 
with pride. 

“Grandfather, dear,” Sylvia whispered 
nestling close to him, “it could never have hap- 
pened had I not come here. It’s the girls and 
the singing of work and the seeing yourself 
as other girls tell you you are. Nancy was — 
was hard to bear at first but I just love her 
now and Jane is an adorable angel. One 
wants to be like Jane, but. Grandfather,” 
Sylvia spoke more slowly, “there is a girl com- 
ing to-night — a girl named Sally. She was 
my favorite hating thing once, but now^ — I am 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


249 


beginning to — to see I can help her and it 
makes such a difference.” 

“Dear little Syl,” Grandfather replied, 
pressing the fluffy head to his shoulder, “you’ve 
learned the a, b, c, of life and we must work 
up the alphabet together.” 

“Dear Granddaddy!” 

“Dear little Syl!” 

The afternoon seemed to the visitors to he 
set to music. The beautiful work song rippled 
through and above the clearing of the table and 
the washing of dishes. Bobbie was enchanted. 

“We fellows don’t sing when we do things!” 
he vouchsafed. 

“Try it, or whistle,” Nancy suggested. 
“But give us Camp Fire girls the credit. It 
took a woman, my laddie, to set her labor to 
music.” 

“Well, anyway, a man wrote it for you,” 
Bobbie retorted; “Jane told me so.” 

“True, my just and honorable brother and 
it only goes to prove that both-together-ness is 
what counts. The sooner you learn that, the 
better! So shake off dull care. Hide that look 
of despair and get busy, get busy, get busy!” 

Bobbie laid hold of a pile of dishes and bore 


250 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


them eagerly to the kitchen roaring at the top 
of his lungs: 

“And you owe a rub! rub! rub!” 

What a sunset that was! Margaret had 
been telling them all of the wonderful effects 
from the arbor but she feared this day, of all 
days, was to fail them. 

“It’s not a bit promising,” she said; “but 
perhaps the stars and dear young moon will 
make up for it.” 

And then, as if the West had no intention 
of being outdone, the little scurrying clouds 
were marshaled together by a brisk, fresh 
breeze. The sun smiled upon them and 
“There was glory over all the land ; a flood of 
glory!” said Grandfather Dean in a whisper 
as if he were in church- 

No one spoke again for a long while; the 
beauty was so touching and vivid. Red and 
gold and violet radiance was tossed about and 
rose and fell until Anally a purplish radiance 
held for a moment. Old Lafayette lay bathed 
in the splendor and only the nooks and 
crannies caught the night shadows. Even 
Bobbie was awed into silence. When the sun 
sank at last far — far behind the range Bobbie 
spoke reverently: 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


261 


“That can’t be the same sun we have in the 
city, Mother. It’s a — a newer sun.” 

No one laughed. It was a newer sun! 

“It’s different every day,” Margaret said 
and there were tears in her eyes. 

“It’s magnificent,” breathed Judge Conly. 
“It settles me about the old farm. From the 
back porch. Miss Fay, I have the same view. 
I will build a broad piazza there which can be 
enclosed by glass and heated in the winter. 
I’ll put in hot water apparatus and — and — ” 
he was looking at Jane’s rapt face which was 
fixed upon the darkening mountain. 

“And — ^learn to live!” he added. 

“And there come SaUy and Mary!” Nancy 
announced; “how droll and picturesque they 
look coming over the meadow Indian file and 
their feathers flying in the breeze.” 

“I say,” Bobbie ejaculated, “aren’t the fel- 
lows coming? I call that mean to shut them 
out of the fun.” 

“As always, so thoughtful about girls,” 
Nancy said with make-believe sternness. 

“Well, that’s different!” pouted Bobbie. 

“All the same,” Sylvia whispered to Joy, 
“I wish they could have come.” 


252 CAMP BRAVE PINE 

Nancy and Margaret, in the dining room, 
also touched upon this matter. 

“Of course they were crazy to come,” said 
Margaret. “Why, Nan, how many glasses 
are you setting out?” for an early supper was 
being prepared after which a ceremonial was 
to take place. 

“Sally and Margaret brought a lot — better 
be ready for an emergency they thought.” 

“What emergency?” Margaret looked suspi- 
cious. 

“Oh! smasheries, crackeries and such.” 

“Nan, do you think those boys are coming?” 

“In times of peace, prepare for war 1 How 
many sandwiches have we, Meg?” 

“Somewhere near a thousand I should say,” 
Meg laughed as she brought forth plate after 
plate heaped with triangle dainties. 

But no Knight of the Round Table pre- 
sented himself and the supper went off as the 
luncheon had, except that Sally and Mary 
added to the entertainment. 

“A song from the Owl!” Nancy called out 
as the luscious blackberries were being enjoyed. 

Mary turned red under her tan but she did 
not refuse. Her summer had conquered much 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


253 


of her shyness and she was always ready to do 
her part. 

*‘Asarai, asarai 

Nunierbut, nunierbut, nunierbut^ 

Asarai, asarai, 

Erkrosiumagalierbungor/’ 

Mary’s voice trilled along over the Indian 
words very comically. Bobbie was deeply im- 
pressed. 

“ Whillikins !” he exclaimed, “that last word 
is a jaw breaker all right, all right! Say it 
again Miss — Miss — Owl, I want to try and 
get it. It will be a sockdolliger in my camp.” 

And again Mary repeated the lines while 
her eyes shone: 

“Erkrosiumagalierbungor/’ 

It took Bobbie many a half hour to conquer 
that even after Mary wrote it down for him. 

“And now a poem or story from our 
Scribbler,” Margaret urged; “the rest of us 
have been showing off all day. Our two new 
members must do us proud.” 

Sally’s eyes fell. 

“It’s only a little thing,” she explained — 
“it isn’t worth anything.” 


254 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Bobbie rose to the occasion: 

“I bet it’s ripping,” he said clapping vigor- 
ously. Then Sally plunged on with her latest 
bit of poetry: 

“Oh, we are happy Camp Fire Girls, 

In our frolic and our fun. 

In our work of joy and service 
In our deeds of kindness done. 

‘No matter what our work may be 
In the days that pass along. 

We strive to make it a pleasure 
And do it with laughter and song. 

“We are taught to think not of self. 

But of those whose way may be drear ; 

To do little deeds of kindness 

Whenever the chance may appear. 

“We wish to be pure, truthful girls 
To follow the Master above; 

May we ever live up to our motto, 

Wohelo — for work, health and love.” * 


Every one was touched by Sally’s literary 
attempt and her earnest manner. 

“And now,” said Miss Rose when at last 
everything was in order again, “I’m going to 

* Camp Fire Girl. 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


255 


spring my surprise. Uncle Silas suggested it. 
As this is a big celebration for us he proposes 
a bonfire!” 

“A bonfire!” Bobbie bopped about with de- 
light. “A really truly bonfire on a hill. 
Cracky! I don’t know whether I’d rather be 
up here with it or down below looking at it.” 

“Stay where you are, Bob,” Nancy advised. 
“No one can ever tell what may happen at the 
critical moment.” 

“The old outhouse — it was once a smoke 
house,” Miss Rose went on, “is falling apart 
and is quite an eye sore. Uncle Silas sug- 
gested that we burn it down to-night. We’ll 
have it for our fire!” 

“How perfectly splendid!” cried Sylvia, 
clapping her hands; “Uncle Silas is an artist!” 

“An artist?” said Sally with professional 
touchiness, “just telling some one to burn 
down a smoke house, isn’t being artistic. Is it, 
Nancy?” 

“We have much to learn, Sally,” Nancy re- 
plied, “but oh! Miss Rose, no one but you must 
touch the spark to your ancestral ruins. My! 
isn’t this the greatest ever?” 

There was much scampering and many or- 


256 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


ders and then the little group formed around 
the old smoke house. 

Miss Rose stood close to some brushwood 
piled under the rotting boards and recited 
beautifully: 

‘‘Long years ago when our fathers fought with great 
animals you were their protection/’ 


Just then a tiny tongue of flame sprang to life. 


“From the cruel cold of winter^ you saved them. 
When they needed food you changed the flesh of beasts 
into savory meat for them. 

“During all the ages your mysterious flame has been a 
symbol to them for Spirit — ” 


and now long ribbons of red and yellow leaped 
high and wound in and out among the sagging 
boards. Off in the distance Uncle Silas 
cheered lustily. 

“So to-night we light our fire in remembrance of the 
Great Spirit who gave you to us !” 


Miss Rose stepped back and inch by inch 
the others gave way before the intense heat. 
The smoke house was a pillar of flame against 
the blackness of the night, then something hap- 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


257 

pened which, oddly enough, no one had fore- 
seen. 

From near and far, calls and voices rose. 
They came ever closer and closer. Across the 
meadow and up the hill, hurrying forms were 
seen and the first to arrive were Mr. Fleming, 
Jago and the dog Danny! 

The people on the hilltop were amazed and 
conscience stricken. In their own enjoyment 
they had not counted upon the fright they had 
given others. The whole village turned out 
to fight the flames of what they thought was 
the dear gray house under the pine. Miss 
Rose was appalled and stood the picture of 
woe, the bright red glow lighting her sorry 
eyes. 

Sporty came upon her and turned the thing 
into a jest: 

“Come, eome. Miss Rose!” he said loudly; 
“who but you would ever have thought of giv- 
ing us such an invitation? It’s immense. 
Now that we are here, let’s get all the fun out 
of it we can. Speech! Speech!” 

As this vague invitation was uttered peo- 
ple laughed and turned to one another. 

“Pa,” whispered Sally to Mr. Temple, “you 


258 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


make vour election speech what I wrote for 
you!” 

“I — I ain’t learned it all,” Pa Temple 
whispered back. 

“I’ll stand close and prompt you. I know 
it from A to Z.” 

“Speech! Speech!” again called Sporty. 

“Mr. Temple!” Mr. Fleming shouted; “he’s 
running for office. He surely has a speech.” 

And then it was that gentle Pa Temple made 
his bow before the public and gave voice to 
the opinions of his own which his daughter had 
set down for him. 

It was Mr. Dean who noticed that Sally 
stood close to her father and murmured now 
and then a word or two. Somehow it touched 
his imagination. It was a pretty sight, 

“That’s the — girl — I hated once,” Sylvia 
breathed, close to her Grandfather’s ear. 

“You mean before you knew her?” 

“Yes, Grandfather. And oh! Grand- 
daddy, dear, I want you to send her a pretty 
party dress as a surprise. Take it out of my 
allowance; don’t let her ever know. I’ll give 
you the measurements.” 

Mr. Dean looked perplexed. 


THE SOCIAL EVENT 


259 


“A party dress? What has that to with — ” 
he looked again at the brown little maid at the 
side of the speaker and he caught the words: 
“not fellow citizens, Pa, the next time say, 
‘friends and neighbors’ !” 

“A party dress, Sylvia?” 

“Yes, Granddaddy, dear. She isn’t always 
helping her father — sometimes she’s just like 
me — actually aching for — fluffy, pretty 
things.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE BELATED LIGHT 

It was as they were all going down the hill 
that night that Uncle Silas found himself be- 
side Mercy Flanders. Mercy had never sunk 
to the dead level she had known before Jane 
Trevor had brought her up to the standard of 
the sprigged muslin. She had been, accord- 
ing to herself, “considerable upset when she 
saw the fire” and her face was still flushed and 
excited. She wore her ugly gray and black 
wrapper but her fine hair was becomingly 
dressed and a bunch of red geranium flowers 
was pinned in her belt. 

“I just couldn’t bear to think of fire wiping 
out them on the hill,” Mercy said panting a 
little. 

“What’s the use of wearing yourself out, 
Mercy, trying to get ahead of me?” Silas 
asked with a twinkle in his eye. “I can go you 
one better any day of the week.” 

“I don’t know any plain reason for you to 

360 


THE BELATED LIGHT 


261 


think I had you on my mind, Silas. Fast 
walldng is one of my accomplishments. 
Lands! I guess I have to step lively or I’d 
never make both ends meet.” Mercy tossed 
her head. That was an aecomplishment, too. 
Silas recalled how Mercy had always tossed her 
head when she was most moved. She had 
tossed it even when she walked behind Sam’s 
body that day as they bore it from the cave. 

“Mercy, don’t you think at our time of life 
if we joined forces we might both, as you might 
say, walk slower; take more breath and enjoy 
the end of the day?” 

And who now can doubt that Uncle Silas 
was an artist? 

“I ain’t one as forgets,” Mercy again tossed 
her head even more violently. 

“And I ain’t one as does either,” Silas as- 
sured her. “But half a century of waiting and 
mourning is long enough ’less you want to 
make it everlasting. We’re both old, Mercy, 
and we’ve lost a lot but there ain’t any sense in 
being stubborn. Sam won’t think any the 
worse of you by and by because you let me lift 
the heft of things otF you just at the end of the 
road and I ’low there won’t be anything ’twixt 


262 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Sam and me if you show him preference in 
Kingdom Come.” 

“It was just that sprigged muslin!” Mercy 
was crying softly. “I oughtn’t to have got 
it out. There was more folded away in the 
folds than lavender.” 

“Come! come! Mercy. Them little injun 
gals on the hill has stirred us up in many ways. 
The live, loving little critters! What with 
their spirits and flames and loving kindness 
and quarrels and makings-up and wanting to 
share the world with folks, they have set us 
all to music like what they set their work to. 
Mercy, what do you say to setting our work 
to a tune?” 

“It will have to be short meter!” Mercy gave 
a nervous laugh at her own witticism. 

“Waal, we kin sing it as slow and long 
drawn out as we want to. I had a good middle 
bass once.” 

“And I ain’t lost all my alto,” Mercy put 
in. “But lands ! It would be real shaller for 
us to — to think of getting married. I guess 
the Corners would bust with laughter.” 

“I guess they wouldn’t!” Silas straightened 
himself. “I’m going to put it up to Miss Fay. 


THE BELATED LIGHT 


263 


She’s a master hand like her Aunt Patsy be- 
fore her. Mercy, once I went to old Patsy 
Fay and told her about me and you after — 
Sam’s going, and she said ‘bide your time, 
Silas. Mercy’s had a blow to her pride as well 
as to her love, wait till her pride’s mended.’ ” 

“And — you’ve waited, Silas?” 

“All these years, Mercy. It’s hurt me to see 
you toiling over your tubs and in your garden, 
but I sensed you were mending your pride.” 

“I was. I stuck it out.” 

“All right, Mercy. You just lay down your 
hoe and washboard. You leave this to Miss 
Fay and me.” 

And three days later Uncle Silas went to 
Miss Rose as she sat sewing in the arbor. 

“The injuns off?” he asked. 

“Yes. A game of fox and hares. The 
boys and Mr. Fleming are with them. Since 
the parents went a reaction set in they had to 
run themselves back to old times.” 

“Waal, it’s real quiet-like without them 
but what you said about them is true of me. 
Miss Fay, I’ve been, waal, not exactly run- 
ning, but meandering back to old times my- 
self.” 


264 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Miss Rose kept her eyes on her work. 
“Yes?” she said softly. 

“And I’ve found — Mercy Flanders, Miss 
Fay.” • 

“She remembered you, Uncle Silas? Re- 
membered how good and patient and kind you 
were and are? I hope she remembered all 
that.” 

“I ain’t asked her jest what particulars she 
noted. Miss Fay, but I — cornered her. 
Caught her rather out of breath as you might 
say, and overpowered her with — ” Silas 
grinned, “logic and common sense. There 
ain’t much choice for Mercy at her time of life. 
It’s the almshouse a few years later on, or me 
now! She’s willing but her and me is up 
against it as to how to make the coming to- 
gether reasonable instead of comical. I don’t 
want Mercy’s feelings hurt by being made a 
butt of.” Uncle Silas suddenly became digni- 
fied and Miss Rose loved him for it. 

“It couldn’t be what you might say a wed- 
ding in the ordinary sense and yet there must 
be a wedding. The church is out of the ques- 
tion and likewise Mercy’s home. Neither ain’t 
fitting.” 


THE BELATED LIGHT 


265 


“Uncle Silas, will you leave this to me?” 
Miss Rose’s face was all aglow. “It is such 
a happy ending to your story and Mercy’s — 
no; not the ending; just the beginning — I want 
to think it over. Can you trust me?” 

“Yes, ma’am! You and your Aunt Patsy 
Fay be considerable mixed up in my love af- 
fairs. I ain’t never told you ’bout your Aunt 
Patsy and me — I mentioned it to Mercy last 
night. I ain’t what you might call supersti- 
tious, but I am leaning to the on-natural in 
love and birth and death. Yes. I’ll let you 
think this over. But I tell you, ma’am, noth- 
ing ain’t ever lighted on this place like you and 
your young ’uns! They just pass the light 
along like they sing about. They’ve sot the 
Corners to singing and humming. I heard 
to-day down to Temple’s store that those skin- 
flints, Dallas and Smith, are bidding up agin 
each other for the Boys’ Club House what Mr. 
Fleming is sot upon. That fifty-odd taken in 
the other night mounted to one hundred and 
fifty in less than twenty-four hours and now 
Smith and Dallas are shaming theirselves into 
being public spirited.” 

“Glorious!” cried Miss Rose. 


266 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“And there’s going to be a village collection 
and I heard say that the town folks was going 
to ask Sylvia and Joy and that Sporty young 
gent from down the creek to do the begging.” 

“I’m sure they’ll do what they can. Oh! 
how lovely it all is — ^this service to others!” 

And that evening Miss Rose told Uncle 
Silas’ story to her girls. They sat very quiet 
until she had finished then it was found that 
they were crying softly and lovingly for Miss 
Rose had made a tender romance of the pa- 
thetic little confidence. 

At last Nancy spoke up as she wiped her 
eyes vigorously. 

“Half way methods will never do,” she ex- 
claimed. “We might make a shabby little ex- 
cuse for a wedding but I’m for having the 
real thing. Of course some folks might laugh 
and jeer — ^well! we won’t invite any folks and 
so escape that danger! We all would look 
upon such a wedding as a — as — kind of holy 
prayer of praise or a — a — psalm of thanksgiv- 
ing so why shouldn’t the blessed old dears have 
an out and out wedding?” 

“Oh, Nancy — you — darling!” Jane Trevor 
rushed to Nancy and kissed her vigorously, “I 


THE BELATED LIGHT 26T 

was so afraid you’d suggest something less.” 

“We’ll write to the home folks and have 
little boxes for wedding cake sent down,” said 
Margaret, “and I’ll make the cake!” 

“We’ll send for some pretty white stuff for 
dress and veil,” Sylvia broke in. 

“And we’ll all make the gown.” 

“I’ll give silk stockings,” said Joy. 

“And I the slippers,” said Jane. 

“Well, Uncle Silas seems rather left out,” 
Miss Rose laughingly put in. 

“Bless his heart 1” Nancy’s eyes were still wet 
with tears; “I have my eye on his outfit. 
Leave Uncle Silas to me.” 

So the letters to the families were sent and 
each bore the tender story of Silas and Mercy. 
And at the end of a fortnight things began to 
come and happen. Neither Uncle Silas nor 
Mercy was let into the secret and they were 
both waiting until “Miss Rose thought her way 
out.” 

“Considerable heft to that box,” cried Uncle 
Silas, who brought the packages from the sta- 
tion. “ ‘Handle with care’ painted on it, too. 
Waal, I did my part. No tender infant could 
have been handled gentler.” 


268 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


The box contained Judge Conly’s gift — 
some dishes of pretty china and all the plain 
table silver the modest home would need. 
Neither Mercy nor Silas had ever dreamed of 
such wealth and the girls danced with joy as 
they imagined the delight with which this gift 
would be welcomed. Mrs. Deering had sent 
Mercy many useful and pretty articles of dress 
but the material for the wedding gown and the 
delicate veil came from Jane’s mother. 

The Knights had been let into the con- 
spiracy and what laughs they had had been 
kept for themselves. The boys had thrown 
themselves body and soul into the wedding 
preparations. 

“Just pass Uncle Silas over to us!” Sporty 
announced from the assurance of his social and 
moneyed position; “the bride isn’t going to be 
the whole show here, you bet!” 

“I leave him to your tender mercy,” Nancy 
had said; “I would have done my best, but I 
resign in favor of your betterer.” 

Such whisperings and excitement! Such a 
number of unlooked-for gifts, for the shabby 
little story had been told in the city and friends 
of friends begged to be allowed to send a 


THE BELATED LIGHT 


269 


trifle. Sensible offerings they were, too, for 
wise advice was given. 

“Oh! Miss Rose,” pleaded Sylvia one day, 
“may we have a bride’s maid and a maid of 
honor?” 

This needed thought for Miss Rose recog- 
nized the necessity of keeping within bounds. 

“I think Jane should stand beside Mercy. 
Jane discovered her and then Grandfather has 
sent that party dress to Sally and if she were 
maid of honor instead of matron of honor it 
would be so perfectly splendid.” 

So this new departure was spoken of and 
planned. Sally was beside herself with de- 
light. Her lovely blue dress that had come as 
a “tribute to her talents” was the holiest thing 
that had ever come into her life. She got up 
at night to look at it in the closet to make sure 
she was not dreaming. 

And on the first day of September the wed- 
ding came off ! It was an afternoon aff air and 
because the day was bright and warm the cere- 
mony was held in the arbor which had been 
decorated with asparagus fern and golden rod 
until it was a thing of beauty. Under the pine 
a table was spread ready for the “supper” and 


270 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


near by another table stood filled with gifts 
that neither Mercy nor Silas had yet seen. 

“I always reckoned the sprigged muslin 
would be my burial shroud,” Mercy had weep- 
ingly explained when first the new wedding 
gown was broached. “But it might answer for 
this shaller wedding of two old dolts.” 

There were two dolts now instead of one ! 

“I don’t like to be beholding to any one,” 
Mercy went on, “and when Mis’ Thorne and 
the rest hear about this — Lands !” 

But the great throbbing secret was sacred to 
the two camps, the city friends and Mr. Flem- 
ing. The girls had all had a hand at the wed- 
ding gown. Long, filmy and cloudlike it hung 
around Mercy’s angular form concealing the 
sharp lines and emphasizing the tall slimness. 
There were orange blossoms, too; Mrs. Lee 
had thought of them. When all was finished 
and Mercy beheld herself in the mirror she 
bent her head and sobbed aloud. 

“It can’t be me!” she cried on Miss Rose’s 
shoulder, “oh! it’s just the wishes and hopes 
and longings of me — the long ago me — come 
true!” 

The Knights in a body brought Uncle Silas 


THE BELATED LIGHT 071 

up to the house. They were all in evening 
dress, even the groom. 

“It’s criminal I know,” Sporty announced, 
“to be wearing these at this untimely hour, but 
there are no in be-tween togs and Uncle Silas 
confided to Jago that since he was ten years old 
he had pined for a claw-hammer coat and 
trousers that look as if they would bust ! Isn’t 
he a peach?” 

Nancy agreed that Uncle Silas was a peach. 

“They’ll be a pair,” she added. 

“Come off !” cried Goo. “A peach is bad 
enough but a pear! Nancy, you’re going the 
limit 1” 

Nancy made a face at him. 

At four o’clock the procession came out of 
the little gray house and walked slowly to the 
arbor while Woe played the Wedding March 
on his fiddle. Even Danny was there with a 
huge white bow on his collar. 

Mr. Fleming stood in the arbor and the set- 
ting sun was at his back. Before Mercy and 
Silas, walked little Jane, in a dainty summer 
dress and Sally radiant in her first party 
gown. 

Silas had taken on dignity with his claw- 


272 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


hammer coat; his trousers were snug and 
wrinkleless and he was groomed to within an 
inch of his life ! 

Mercy had got beyond mere commonplaces. 
Facing the west she saw only the glory of the 
passing day and in her vague, untutored way, 
she knew it was emblematic of her life. All 
that was rich and comforting were hers now 
when she was old — but yet younger than she 
had felt for many and many a year. She 
looked, through her dim faded eyes at little 
Jane leading valiantly on; she looked at plain 
Sally whom she had known all her life, but 
now so changed and magnificent. Then the 
tears blinded her, — poor, happy old Mercy! 

No one had the slightest inclination to laugh 
at the odd bridal party, every one, even Goo, 
looked preternaturally serious. 

The marriage service was simple and beau- 
tiful. Miss Rose never forgot it. It was Mr. 
Fleming’s own and it was quite different from 
the old form with which she had become ac- 
customed. 

They were not, the bride and groom to 
“forsake all others,” that struck Miss Rose 
first; “but be mindful of all others through 
their mutual service.” 


THE BELATED LIGHT 


273 


At last it was over and the company could 
come down from the heights. This they did 
with energy. Then the surprises began. 

“Them presents — for me!” 

The new Mrs. Thomas exclaimed, tossing 
her head and setting the wedding wreath awry. 

“Lands! Silas, we can’t be beholden to this 
extent, to any one! Silver? Now, plated 
ware I might have considered, but real, genu- 
ine sterling! Why, it will put us under 
obligations to the end of our days.” 

“Waal,” Silas returned, standing stiff, but 
dignified, beside the table which bore more 
wealth than he had ever expected to possess, 
and then toward Mercy who represented more 
happiness than he had ever dreamed of in long, 
lonely years: “I don’t know but what I want 
to be obligated, Mercy. I want to feel, not 
for those things, but for the fellow feeling 
those things stand for, real obligated all my 
days. Every time I put a knife or fork to 
my mouth I want to remember these — ” Silas 
waved his long, lean arm to the company; “and 
I want my soul to be eternally grateful for all 
they have brought to me and you!” 

“Hear! hear!” cried Jago, and a big cheer 
rose. 


274 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


After that wonderful speech what was 
Mercy to say? She wept a little more, wiping 
her eyes with a filmy handkerchief that Sylvia 
had insisted upon her accepting as a last touch 
to her costume. 

“Goshem!” Mercy ejaculated, bunching the 
trifle into a ball with her gloved hands, on 
which the long empty finger-tips showed like 
claws; “this sort of handkerchief ain’t con- 
ducive to lamenting and I don’t know as I 
have anything to lament over !” Her tone was 
doubtful and perhaps, in that minute, she was 
thinking of the long-ago love. Nancy always 
believed she was and it gave to Mercy an 
added touch of romance. 

The supper -was one to be remembered and 
when Mercy cut the cake the company rose 
respectfully. The little boxes filled with 
slices of the cake appealed to Mercy more than 
anything else. 

“I guess when them tidbits speak for them- 
selves,” she said, “the Corners will set up and 
take notice.” 

The touch of feminine pride set Sporty off 
in a gale of witticism. 

“I have it!” he exclaimed, “Jane, Danny and 


THE BELATED LIGHT 


275 


I will take a basket full of boxes and deliver 
them at the doors. The personal attention will 
mean more than mail service — besides we can 
gather information. What do you say, Jane?” 

Jane nodded gayly, Danny barked appre- 
ciatively and Mercy beamed with pardonable 
enjoyment. 

And so it was that before the wedding party 
on the hill broke up, the three couriers started 
forth with Uncle Silas’ horse and buggy. 
Never was Jane to forget the experience, nor 
the display of human nature which those little 
white ribboned boxes evoked. So well had the 
secret been kept that not even Mrs. Temple 
knew that Silas and Mercy were other than the 
two lonely old people whom the Corners pitied 
and tolerated. Mrs. Temple had believed 
Sally was at a party on the hill quite different 
from what really had taken place. The Cor- 
ners certainly sat up and took notice! The 
friends and foes of the couple made themselves 
very manifest but, Jane was happy to note, 
there were more, many more friends than foes. 

“The ongrateful critter!” The widow 
Thorne exclaimed when by smelling and biting 
into the contents of her box she assured her- 
self this was no cruel jest. 


276 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“The ungrateful critter! I’ve invited her to 
my three ventures and here she is launching 
forth on her first — and at her age, too! — and 
not an invite for me as has done much for 
her.” 

It took Jane fully fifteen minutes to soothe 
the ruffled widow and make her see Mercy’s 
point of view. 

“Well,” Mrs. Thorne, at last said, “judging 
from my experiences, she’ll need all the friends 
she ever had or is likely to have and I ain’t one 
to bear a grudge.” 

But the funniest part of the delivery serv- 
ice was at the farms of Mr. Dallas and Mr. 
Smith. The families were utterly taken off 
their guard. The women folks were all in a 
flutter ; the men surprised to the verge of shock. 

“Why,” said Mr. Smith, “I alias looked 
upon Mercy as headed for the county farm; 
but I ain’t going to let any city people outshine 
me where our folks is concerned. I’ll see 
Dallas to-morrow and start something in the 
way of a wedding present from the Corners.” 

And that was the beginning of the end which 
evolved into a bit of pasture land which Silas 
had long envied and which, added to his tiny 
farm, made him feel like a landed proprietor. 


CHAPTER XIV 


AN INSPIRATION 

Nancy lay curled up under the pine, a pad 
of paper before her and a fountain pen in her 
hand. She was in the throes of composition 
and her ruffled hair and contracted brows be- 
spoke stern purpose. 

“These frivolous affairs of our elders,” she 
mused, “have distracted me horribly. Did we 
come to Camp Brave Pine to settle the diffi- 
culties of our superiors ? No ; we came for rest 
and recreation.” 

Then she edged into a new position and 
tackled the pad again. She was trying to 
write a letter to her father! Never before had 
she known this duty other than a pleasure but 
now it loomed difficult and high. 

“Dear Dad:” she began, then tore off the 
top of the sheet. “Beloved Father:” But 
that did not look businesslike either. 

“I can’t make a joke of it,” she murmured, 
and the pine tree in a soft whisper agreed. 


278 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Honorable Sir!” Then Nancy laughed 
and looked at her watch. The Rural Free De- 
livery man would be at the pasture gate in one 
hour. All the other letters lay white and 
innocent in a pile on the seat of the arbor and 
her letter, the letter that must propose a great 
humanitarian act was yet to be written. It 
was Nancy, not Sylvia, who, with Joy, was to 
solve dear Margaret’s problem. 

“Dear Sir:” That would make Mr. Mow- 
bray laugh and of all things he must not laugh. 

The hilltop was very quiet — ^the girls and 
Miss Rose were down at Mercy Thomas’ new 
home. Nancy herself was going as soon as she 
had finished the letter that was not yet be- 
gun: 

“And I hope to be a writer some day!” The 
words came savagely. And then desperately 
Nancy plunged in without any form or style. 

“It’s about that money of Aunt Nancy’s,” 
she wrote; “the money that’s coming to me 
when I’m twenty-one or, if I die before that, it 
is to go for the education of some worthy per- 
son. Now, Dad, you know I did not want 
higher education. I wanted — home and just 


AN INSPIRATION 


279 


enough to do to keep my self-respect. The 
secretary work will be the right thing for me 
but IVe found the ‘person’ to educate and 
who should it be but dear Margaret Lee! I 
would never have found it out had we not come 
up here — living in the city prevents you know- 
ing people. Coming up here and having the 
Camp Fire spirit burned into you, has done 
it. Father, you, I and Aunt Nancy’s money 
have, in some way, got to educate Meg. It 
was bad enough to inherit the name of Nancy 
— the money ought to give me a httle pleasure. 
Now, Daddy, help me out — ” Nancy was 
getting down to ordinary terms and her words 
flowed more freely. “Meg is as proud as Cuff 
— whoever he was^ — ^but the world ought not 
lose such a woman as Meg, educated, would be. 
I think she would make a college President or 
a Great Organizer if she had the finishing 
touches put upon her. Her family must be 
made to see that they ought to sacrifice some- 
thing for her while she’s in the making and 
Meg herself must be forced to put her pride in 
her handbag (there are no pockets to-day) . I 
can suggest, but you must do! It will be 
snappy work, Mr. Mowbray, and sharp prac- 


280 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


tice, but you’re equal to it. Advance the 
money, sir, and when I am twenty-one I’ll pay 
you back (keep this letter for reference). If 
I should die before I wake (excuse the levity) , 
you’d have the money to expend anyway. It’s 
Meg who is going to be hard to handle — she’ll 
have to be made to see that in accepting educa- 
tion, she is unselfish. She has a passion for 
self sacrifice. Mr. Mowbray my honored Pa, 
do untangle this mess for your devoted. 

“Camp Firek.” 

Nancy read the production over again and held 
it out at arm’s length. 

“For pure business combined with friendly 
interest and daughterly faith,” she said with 
her bright smile, “I call that a masterpiece. 
When I’m rich I’m going to make education 
gettable for them as wants it. Think of Syl- 
via kicking like a little broncho against going 
to college and Joy, without wit enough to pass 
examinations for a kindergarten class, and me 
with just decency enough to want to put some 
of my day to practical use, and great throbbing 
souls, like Meg’s and Jago’s, just allowed 
to mend stockings, cook and stuff learning into 


AN INSPIRATION 


281 


heads not worthy the stuffing. The world’s 
all wrong!” Nancy was declaiming to the 
great open spaces — “It’s up to us Camp Firers 
and others like us, to untangle the snarl. If I 
can head Meg for some college I shall not have 
lived this summer in vain.” 

Nancy folded the important document, di- 
rected and stamped it and then made her way 
down the hill. She left all the letters in the 
box for collection and ran light heartedly on 
toward Mrs. Silas Thomas’ little home. 

Mercy had moved all her belongings over to 
Silas’ house, which was larger and better than 
hers. There was an air of comfort and warmth 
and brightness everywhere in the rooms and 
Mercy herself was quite another person. 

“I says, say I, to stick to your bargain,” 
Mercy was saying to Miss Rose as Nancy en- 
tered. 

“I took your washin’ and ironin’ and I mean 
to wash and iron you till you depart. Silas is 
willing and I says to him this morning when I 
saw the first snow on Mt. Washington, ‘Silas, 
says I, when the cold sets in we’ll be glad to 
have the extra money.’ And what’s more. 
Miss Fay, Silas and me have sot our minds on 


282 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


keeping up the Saturday Club and having a 
fire in the parlor for it each week.” 

“Oh, splendid,” said Miss Rose, “and the 
people have decided to turn the loft, over Mr. 
Temple’s store, into the Boys’ Club. We’ll 
send books up from the city for both clubs and 
we’ll think and think of you.” Miss Rose’s 
eyes were shining. 

“Well,” Mercy replied folding gently the 
last snow white garment and putting it in the 
basket, “the thoughts will pass back to you 
from us up here. The mails may be shut in, 
but thoughts kin fiy.” 

Already Uncle Silas’ manner of speech was 
descending upon Mercy. 

The girls were silent. The little, new home 
with its hopes and brave promises was a sacred 
thing to them and each one knew how often 
her memory would hark back to this happy 
summer and the dear, hill people. 

The basket of fresh laundry was borne in 
turn by the girls and Miss Rose over the pas- 
ture and up the hill. They talked gayly and 
lovingly together and planned surprises and 
returns next summer as they went on. When 
they reached the letter box at the stile they 


AN INSPIRATION 


283 


paused to get the mail. Every one had two or 
three letters and there were papers and maga- 
zines galore. 

“A letter from the Judge!” cried Jane Tre- 
vor sitting down upon a roek to open it. The 
others waited. “When I see his handwriting 
I know something is doing. Now by the prick- 
ing in my thumb I feel that ‘business calls me 
hum!’ ” — Jane went no further for she was lost 
in the closely written letter. Presently she be- 
gan to cry, at first softly and gently and then, 
with her head on Miss Rose’s shoulder, more 
violently. 

“Why, Janey,” Nancy exclaimed, rushing 
toward her, “bad news?” 

“Can’t you tell the differenee?” Meg whis- 
pered, “whatever it is, it isn’t bad news— it’s 
good!” 

And then little J ane pulled herself together. 

“I’m such a goose!” she faltered; “such a 
plain goose. Oh! Miss Rose! girls! It is the 
farm! Can you not see it all — the back porch 
and the sunsets! the open fires and the books. 
The beloved out of doors and the quiet stars — 
the — the fear all gone that I may — have my 
father’s disease of the lungs? Oh! oh!” 


284 . 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Just for a moment confusion followed Jane’s 
excited words, then Miss Rose seemed to real- 
ize that something had shattered forever, for 
one hrave' little soul, all difficulties and fears. 
It was a glorious moment and no new feai’S 
or difficulties of the future could ever take 
from this hour the glory for little Jane. 

“Let us take it in sections,” pleaded Nancy, 
settling herself close to Jane. “My poor hrain 
has, this summer, been taxed to its limit. We 
came for peace and rest and we’ve had — ” 
she looked comically about — “well! we haven’t 
had exactly a flat existence. Jane, what 
farm?” 

“Judge Conly has bought his old family 
place; improvements and repairs to begin at 
once;” Jane clutched the precious letter in her 
trembling hands and controlled her emotions. 

“And the foreigner?” Margaret interrupted; 
“What is to become of the present owner — the 
foreigner?” 

J ane referred to the closely written sheets. 
“He will remain and work the place on shares. 
He will live in a small house near by and his 
wife will agree to do any extra house work 
which may be required.” 




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AN INSPIRATION 


285 


“Snappy work!” Nancy exclaimed, “go on, 
Janey.” 

“Mother and I are to keep house, feel the 
place our home and arrange our lives to suit 
ourselves with these conditions — ” again Jane 
turned to the letter and read: 

“ ‘I would like to have a bedroom and small 
library reserved for me as I shall want to feel 
free to come unannounced at any time. But- 
ter, poultry, &c., may eventually be possible for 
city use, though I do not demand this.’ 
Then,” Jane’s eyes filled again with happy 
tears, “the kind man is afraid he’s been too 
coldly businesslike. Listen to this. ‘But I do 
demand that a eertain young person, namely, 
my late stenographer, continue to look in as 
hounding health as she now does or she will re- 
fleet upon my business ability. I also demand 
that said stenographer’s mother, who has re- 
cently vowed she likes nothing better than to 
travel through heat and dust to gather grim 
facts for a curious old man, shall settle down 
and — forget it!’ Forget it! Isn’t that ex- 
quisite when Judge Conly says it?” 

“He is one of earth’s noblemen. Every one 
knows that who knows him.” 


286 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Miss Rose said this almost reverently. “Ohl 
what a beautiful place this world would he if 
all rich men believed as Judge Conly does, that 
his wealth is his only in trust and he the stew- 
ard !” 

Margaret Lee’s eyes were fixed on the far 
hills and Nancy, looking toward her under- 
stood the patient, unselfish longing in the quiet, 
big-hearted girl. 

“Mercy me!” thought Nancy; “I hope my 
dear, old Dad will come to the fore and prove 
himself worthy the words Miss Rose has just 
used of another.” 

“But oh! Janey.” It was Sylvia who spoke 
and genuine affection and pride rang in her 
tones; “how can I get on without you? I’ve 
been planning such things and I want — oh ! I 
want so much to have you for — for my bosom- 
est friend!” 

Every one laughed but Jane, she looked up 
sweetly and said: 

“Sylvy, dear, there is always going to be a 
dear, wee bedroom next mine for — a friend! 
You must all come in turns and bring the old 
life to Mother and me. Judge Conly even 
mentions that!” 


AN INSPIRATION 


287 


“Winter in the hills,” breathed Joy Deering; 
“it will be — divine!” • 

“And — how we will yearn for it!” Mar- 
garet’s eyes were still fixed on the far peaks. 
“I often go to Central Park where it is rocky 
and lonely and still in the winter — and dream 
of such a place as this must be when the snow 
lies white and soft over everything.” 

“You’d have to keep the fires up, Janey!” 
Nancy broke in, making every one laugh. “I 
insist upon that.” 

And then there was much chattering and dis- 
cussion of details. Long, long dreams and 
plans were indulged in on the way home and 
finally Jane Trevor and Miss Rose, carrying 
the basket of laundry between them, fell into 
quiet, intimate talk. 

“Miss Rose, dear, can you imagine how the 
old fear has haunted Mother and me — the fear 
that I might inherit my father’s lung trouble?” 

“Yes, little Jane.” 

“I had to woi’k, and so had Mother, but often 
when she was the merriest I have seen the fear 
for me in her eyes and when I have taken cold 
and felt worn out — I’ve lain awake nights 
thinking of poor little Mother without — me!” 


288 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“There! there! Janey dear.” 

“And oh, Miss Rose, we love the country so. 
Mother and I will live to be ninety-eight; and 
the rooms for the blessed Judge will be like 
shining welcomes calling him to his own. He 
is often so tired and lonely. I’ve always felt 
it — and Mother and I can make a bright spot 
of real home life for him and then you all! 
You will come just naturally and bring your 
lives into ours. Isn’t it wonderful to make 
little pieces of heaven on earth? And oh! dear, 
if there were only more patches of heaven, by 
and by they would touch and lap over and then 
there would he — ” 

The sentence was never finished, but each in 
her own way was thinking : 

“And there shall he a new heaven and a new 
earth for the former things had passed away.” 

Dinner was evolved from much excitement 
and hilarity. Mistakes were made and laugh- 
ter resounded all over the little gray house. 

“Sylvia Dean!” Nancy called from the cel- 
lar, “that’s the third time you’ve taken the 
butter upstairs. Take lard next time for vari- 
ety.” 

Sylvia good naturedly called back: 


AN INSPIRATION 


289 


“I really have, three plates of butter on the 
table!” 

“Well,” Nancy comforted, “who wouldn’t 
try to ease the situation by a little grease? I 
call it pretty doubtful business this. Bringing 
the cream of New York City up here for an in- 
nocent little vacation and having it skimmed 
in this fashion. I am sure I do not know what 
a certain frivolous set will do without Jane 
Trevor.” 

“Oh!” Sylvia replied, sitting down discon- 
solately upon the lowest step of the cellar stairs 
with a plate of butter in each hand, “I can just 
see the worth-whiles heading for Compton Cor- 
ners every vacation — summer and winter. 
The midwinter dances will be bleak aifairs with 
all the nice boys up in New Hampshire snow- 
shoeing, skating, sleighing and doing all the 
other fascinating stunts.” Nancy shook with 
laughter. 

“And this from our Sylvy!” she bubbled. 
“Cheer up, chummy, there is no sex limitation 
in traveling. What’s to prevent — ” 

And then both girls gave a smile of joy. 

“Sure enough — what’s to prevent? It’s like 
having your pleasures scattered all over,” 


290 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


But that evening quite late Nancy Mowbray 
and Joy Deering went out under the shining 
stars and stood with arms about each other near 
the brave pine. Nancy had decided to take 
Joy into her confidence. 

“What college, Joy, are your cruel parents 
trying to force you into?” Nancy asked. 

“Bryn Mawr,” Joy whispered discontented- 
ly. “I’ve just been thinking. Nan, of college 
— after this! It’s like looking forward to 
prison. There isn’t enough of me to educate 
to make it worth while. I don’t want to he 
educated; I don’t want to go to — ^to prison — 
I want to Eve and be free !” 

“But there are girls,” Nancy’s voice was un- 
usually tender ; “who, I suppose, would see the 
way to freedom through a college. There are 
such queer girls.” 

“Yes. Meg Lee is like that. Do you know. 
Nan, she said the funniest thing the other 
day. It was the day we all had that cross- 
country run and she and Jim Nichols and I 
were together for a time. She said that she 
felt that there was something in her that had to 
be educated into — into usefulness. And Jim 
Nichols said ‘yes’ just as if he knew what she 


AN INSPIRATION 


291 


meant. Then he went on and said ‘it’s some- 
thing the world ought to have at its best, too, 
only folks are too stupid to understand.’ And 
then Meg said, ‘Well, even it is a blind crippled 
thing if we do our best with it — our real best 
— it will count.’ Now what do you suppose 
they meant?” 

Nancy’s merry face was strangely still and 
tender. 

“I think I know. Meg and Jim Nichols are 
different from us, Joy. They are hungering 
and thirsting for — what we are incapable of 
wanting and which is being flung at our 
heads.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” And in- 
deed Joy was in the dark. Since the talk with 
Sylvia on this same subject, she had almost en- 
tirely forgotten it. 

“Well, I mean something like this. You do 
not want to go to college but you do want to do 
the social stunt and have a good time and settle 
down, after a bit, in the nice-society-girl-f ash- 
ion. And I want to help Father and be free 
to — don’t laugh, Joy — but be free to let genius 
burn! I want to gather material where and 
how I can and have no one tamper with my — 


292 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


my — style ! and by and by I want to write a big 
human thrilling novel unhampered by conven- 
tion and — and — and — other things!” 

The fine girlish face quivered under the cool 
touch of the night and little Joy Deering felt 
the call but could not comprehend it. 

‘T — I didn’t know you cared so much for 
style!” she murmured looking with puzzled 
eyes into Nancy’s. 

“Style!” Contempt was softened by pity. 
“Style! Why, Joy, you little duflfer. I 
mean — well, what does it matter? But this 
does matter. Neither you nor I want to waste 
years and money in being educated into some- 
thing we do not wish to be.” 

“No.” On this head Joy was clear and firm. 
“But some people think college finishes a girl — 
it does in more senses than one!” Uncon- 
sciously Joy uttered a great and stupendous 
truth. 

“Well, it’s all Tommy rot!” Nancy ex- 
claimed. “There are other folks — big, still, 
unbegging folks like Jago and Meg who ache 
for what would be wasted on us. They want 
to go to college — Jago will go because, being a 
boy, he is free to Avork himself through if his 
health doesn’t break down.” 


AN INSPIRATION 


293 


“It doesn’t look as if it possibly could!” Joy 
put in vaguely. “He’s the strongest thing I 
ever saw.” 

“Well, anyway, he ought to put that 
strength to the main thing instead of puttering 
it along in the summer in order to get through 
the winter. And Meg, being a girl, doesn’t 
even get his chance. Why, Joy Deering — ” 
and here Nancy backed against the pine and 
flung her eternal truths in blind-girl fashion 
out into the night and into Joy’s simple little 
heart, “Meg Lee is lavishing her divine spark 
on mending stockings and wiping her little 
brothers’ and sisters’ noses and filling in gaps — 
and her loving mother is taking it all without a 
single thought that it is an awful wrong. Why, 
Meg ought to be made into something big and 
great and given 'to the world! Instead she’ll 
go on filling in until her splendid soul and long- 
ings will be gathered into something small and 
criss-cross like the darn in one of those everlast- 
ing Lee stockings.” 

J oy Deering felt dizzy on the high place to 
which Nancy had dragged her. She was a bit 
breathless too, and felt strangely ignorant and 
commonplace. 


294 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“You talk — awfully talky!” she said finally. 
“I think Mrs. Lee is very nice and sweet and 
unselfish and the Lee children don’t have colds 
in theirs heads all the time. Besides I heard 
Mrs. Lee say last winter that Gladys was help- 
ing with the stockings now.” 

Nancy looked wanly at Joy and knew in 
that moment the soul-loneliness of the peaks ! 

“Joy,” she began, trying to frame her words 
to meet the situation. “You do not under- 
stand, but take my word for it, Mrs. Lee, with 
all her little fluffy chicks, has hatched a pretty 
good swan as well and she doesn’t know what 
to do with it. Meg’s the swan. She wants 
to get out in the wide — ^well, the wide ocean 
and — swim !” 

Joy was becoming more and more dazed as 
she listened. Suddenly Nancy came down to 
earth, flat footed, as Mercy Thomas would say. 

“Oh! Joy, you and I together, in some way, 
must give Meg a chance — to be educated. Get 
higher education!” 

And then it was that practical, fluffy little 
J oy got her bearings. 

“You mean,” she gasped tasting her first 
nibble of power, “that you and I can put Meg 
through college and give her her chance?” 


AN INSPIRATION 


295 


“Exactly! Oh, Joy, how responsive you 
are. Exactly! It’s a big stunt and I’ve asked 
my precious old Dad to help me and you must 
ask your father and mother and we must — see 
it through ! It’s all the doings of this summer. 
It has brought us close and it’s the Camp Eire 
spirit which makes girls just plain girls and — 
deeper friends. Can’t you see how it has made 
Judge Conly think straight about Jane? Oh, 
it is the coming- together-ness ! We all knew 
each other from outside and every one of us 
had a little circle.. This camp has broken 
down — oh! Joy, I wish you could understand 
— but it has broken down the circumferences 
and — let us in!” 

For a moment Joy was very silent and her 
pretty perplexed face looked pale and strained. 
The tall pine quivered in sympathy with 
Nancy’s far vision and Joy’s more contracted 
outlook. The sweet, peaceful breeze lifted the 
hair from two eager girlish brows and the quiet 
summer night held them tenderly and close. 
Then at last Joy spoke, feeling her way timid- 
ly out into a new thought. 

“I — I do understand a little Nan, dear. It’s 
like waking up and finding yourself in a 


296 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


strange place with other people’s things about 
instead of your own. I’ve always thought of 
myself ; what I wanted and what I wanted to 
do or not do. Now I see dear old Meg’s wants 
and longings that she never talks about and 
Sylvia’s too. She and I used to think alike, but 
she — is different now and I know she often 
thinks me silly. Nan, I want to keep up with 
you all. If I can do anything, I want to. It 
would be perfectly splendid to help fine Meg 
to a — to the ocean! I never heard of a swan 
on an ocean, but perhaps you have. Anyway 
— I know this much: I can lead father and 
mother just as easy as easy, especially if it is 
for something — big!” 

Thus it was that the plot was conceived and 
worked out under the pine on the hill. It was 
no light or easy task and both Joy and Nancy 
often sighed as new complications presented 
themselves. 

The days passed and no letter from Nancy’s 
father arrived and the conspirators grew heavy 
hearted. 


CHAPTER XV 

THE TOWN CLUB^’S DANCE 

The loft over Pa Temple’s store had become 
a thing of beauty and a joy to the hearts of the 
boys and girls of Compton Corners. For, be 
it known to the everlasting glory of the boys of 
the place, once the Club House was an assured 
thing, they came forth with ideas and ideals of 
their own. The Knights of the Round Table 
and the charter members of the Town Club, 
met upon a certain evening to discuss the fu- 
ture policy of the association. The hall was 
decorated with flags and freshly cleaned. The 
odor of brown soap and paint greeted the 
proud nostrils of those present while the 
kerosene oil lamps, against the side walls, 
flared and smelled energetically. 

Jago, a born leader of men, sat upon the 
kitchen table which was to do service as desk. 
The three or four dozen bright yellow wooden 
chairs stood about the room and offered hospi- 
tality to all. 


297 


298 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Come to order!” called Jago bringing a 
sawed-off croquet mallet, known as the gavel, 
down upon the table. “I call this meeting to 
order and we will now proceed to elect officers.” 

Mr. Fleming, from his far corner of the room, 
looked upon the scene and gave a grateful sigh. 
Poor and shabby as the place was, it was a cen- 
ter into which to gather those boys and give 
them new interests. But the newly elected 
president was speaking! He was a tall, awk- 
ward boy — the gangliest boy of the town; a boy 
in the rough! His face was quite scarlet as he 
faced the assembly but the dignity and sanctity 
of office was upon him. 

“Fellers,” he said trying to assume an easy 
attitude, “I’ve got something to say, but I don’t 
know as I can say it like what I mean. We 
oughter be real grateful for this club and what 
it’s going to mean and we’ve got to do it credit 
and don’t you forget it! Any mean tricks will 
be set upon and swearing and lying ain’t going 
to be tolerated.” 

The perspiration stood on the President’s 
furrowed brow. This first oratorical flight of 
his was bearing him beyond his depths ; he saw 
his one-time mates gaping at him with hanging 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


699 


jaws but he also saw the Knights looking at 
him with trust and expectation. 

“Yes, siree! this Club ain’t going to shame 
this town not if we know it. It’s going to 
mean something good and decent and them 
what ain’t willing to lend a hand kin have their 
ten cents a month back and git out! What- 
ever us fellers do outside this club is one thing; 
what we do inside it, is another. And now I’m 
going to say something what some of you may 
kick against, but I’ve thought it out since I 
came in here to-night and by Jiminy I’m going 
to say it!” 

Inspiration now flamed from the scarlet, 
streaming face. 

“This here club was helped along by women 
and girls same as by fellers and Mr. Fleming.” 
(Hear ! hear ! broke from the listeners.) “And 
all this week girls — I ain’t going to mention 
no names, I don’t have to — have scrubbed and 
washed windows and brought these here flowers 
to make things nifty and it seems dog-gorned 
mean and small of us, now we’ve got this club, 
to overlook what’s been done and given. I’m 
going to propose that this here Club, known as 
the Town Club, have one night a week for 


300 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


ladies’ night,” — the trail of Jago was detected 
first and last through this speech, but only Mr. 
Fleming realized it ; even the speaker had been 
brought to believe that these noble sentiments 
were his own; — “on that night we can have fun 
together. Dancing, games and a play now 
and then. More’n that if the girls want to use 
this here hall for their own things and if it 
doesn’t interfere with our business, I’m for let- 
ting ’em have it for — ” and here came the final 
sky-rocket — “if this is a town club, I say let it 
he a town club. And girls are part of this 
here town and a big part.” 

As soon as the listeners could command 
themselves a thunder of applause greeted the 
waiting soul of the exhausted President. The 
Knights shouted themselves hoarse and the one 
or two masculine creatures who had boldly an- 
nounced earlier in the evening that they meant 
to vote down any “sissy business,” now were 
lost sight of in the general enthusiasm. 

The proceedings following the president’s 
address were recorded by the new secretary 
who spelled so badly and wrote with such diffi- 
culty that he, too, assumed an expression of 
deep suffering. The new treasurer came to 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


301 


the fore and announced that he was prepared 
to take dues and, under Mr. Fleming’s super- 
vision gave neat receipts that seemed to fill the 
members with awe. 

“Received from Tom Donnelly, ten cents for 
monthly dues to the Town Club.” 

The slip assumed dignified proportions and 
was reverently folded and placed in a safe 
pocket. 

Then Sporty Nilson with Danny at his heels, 
stepped to the front of the room. 

“I want to say,” he began clearing his throat, 
“that we fellows want to help you fellows in 
the best way we can and so, for the others, I 
want to say — ” poor Sporty was no orator! — 
“just a few words. I want to say — ” 

“Why in thunder don’t you do it?” whis- 
pered Goo from a near-by chair. 

“I want to say, that we fellows will give to 
you fellows all the games and things like that 
to set you up and each one of us fellows will 
send to you fellows a magazine every month 
or week as it happens to come out. Likewise 
we’d like to pay dues and be counted as mem- 
bers of this Town Club for when we can, we 
like to be in good company. And that’s what 
I wanted to say.” 


302 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Danny sitting on his haunches gazed admir- 
ingly at his master and gave a sharp yelp of 
appreciation that caused Woe Olney to giggle 
aloud. 

“And I have something to propose.” It was 
Jago who now spoke. “I’ve consulted with 
Mr. Fleming and he thinks it is a legitimate 
way to raise a little fund of money for the 
Club. A week from to-night I suggest we 
have our first Ladies’ Night and on it we will 
give a mild kind of a show. Each one of us 
and certain girls whom we may invite will come 
in costume — any favorite character of history 
or romance; wear masks and act our parts. 
We will ask the older people of the town to 
come as audience and there wiU be a prize for 
the man or woman who guesses correctly who 
is who. We’ll charge ten cents apiece for ad- 
mission tickets and the money will go into the 
club treasury.” 

This speech was greeted with wilder enthu- 
siasm than the President’s had. The hall was 
in an uproar and, for an hour after, all seemed 
talking at once so full were they of suggestions 
and ideas. 

There was no corner loafing in Compton 
that night. 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


303 


Two days later Miss Rose took from the 
letter box at the pasture bars a formidable look- 
ing envelope. It was a large yellow envelope 
and upon it was inseribed various things that 
caused her to pause by the pasture bars and 
seek to decipher. In one corner was a tail pine 
tree standing guard over a trim little fire — that 
was easy to guess ! On the opposite corner was 
a round table about which were gathered sev- 
eral small dogs and one lone man-figure. 
That made Miss Rose laugh aloud. Then 
came the words “Commanded by” and under- 
neath the one word “Town” and the picture of 
a club. 

“The Knights and my girls,” thought Miss 
Rose at last, “are commanded by the Town 
Club to — what?” And then she opened the 
envelope being careful not to tear the design. 

The invitation, having been worked out by 
Jago and put into form by the Club’s secretary, 
was most explicit. They must all choose a fa- 
vorite character and act the part! 

Miss Rose was girl enough to see the fun of 
the plan and she knew, with Mr. Fleming and 
the nice Knights, the thing would be safe and 
enjoyable. So she hurried up the hill to 
spread the news. 


304 < 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Such a pretty, home scene greeted her. The 
hot, late August morning had made exercise 
intolerable but each girl was busy. J ane was 
sewing — her neat basket in her lap and her 
pretty tanned face bent over the shirt waist 
upon which she was working. Nancy was 
husking corn with a vigor and dexterity that 
made Miss Rose laugh to herself. Whatever 
Nancy did outside her own beloved sphere she 
did well and strenuously. She always seemed 
in a hurry to get through with it, but she never 
shirked or slighted. Sylvia was peeling pota- 
toes daintily and unconcernedly. Sylvia had 
achieved! Joy was beating a pudding as if her 
life depended upon it. Her eyes were full of 
fire and the tip of her tongue showed between 
her even, white teeth. Margaret was reading 
aloud and no one noticed little Miss Rose as 
she paused at the side of the house to listen. 

“Then she called her Camp Fire Girls to her 
as she stood beneath the Brave Pine and she 
gave them her dear blessing and told them that 
she read with comfort and quite clearly the 
marks upon their foreheads and was glad that 
they had kept the faith. ‘Sweet Cricket,’ 
Hiatini said, laying a gentle hand upon the 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


305 


Singing One, ‘you have won out and will now 
have a large cage in which to learn new songs 
and gladden many hearts. Swift Foot you 
have shaken off the shackles and can now 
run with speed upon the way; but I warn you 
to be guided by your head as well as your heart 
or you may reach the lesser goal and divert 
the plans of them Higher than Thou.’ ” Mar- 
garet paused. “What are all the capitals for, 
,Nan?” she asked. “They look so funny.” 

“Ancient style.” Nancy replied yanking 
the ear of corn she held savagely. “Besides 
capitals command attention. Swift F oot take 
heed!” 

Margaret flushed and went on. 

“I hated to have so many good capitals 
wasted on me unless it was absolutely neces- 
sary,” she said. Then: 

“And Dauntless you have gladdened my eyes 
day by day as we have journeyed through this 
Land of Promise. I have seen you do battle 
with all your old sins and temptations. I have 
seen you lose your beauty and sylph-like grace 
with no unmaidenly protest. I have seen you 
accept freckles with a dignity worthy of deeper 
defects and I have seen your character emerge 


306 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


from the ashes of your past, bright and fear- 
less.” 

Sylvia Dean at this let her hands drop in the 
pan of potatoes while her laugh rang out clear 
and strong. 

“This New Pilgrim’s Progress, Nan,” she 
panted, “is the funniest thing I ever heard. I’m 
sure when Miss Rose reads it she wiU collapse. 
Do go on Meg'” 

And then the Wap came close to Hiatini to 
receive her blessing. The Wap was ehanged 
in more senses than one. She was now a sub- 
stantial Wap. A happy Wap and a Wap 
with the inner light of conscience shining in her 
once uselessly pretty face. 

“Happy Bird,” said Hiatini, tapping the 
Wap’s guileless nose ‘thou hast soared off of 
thy narrow perch and hast learned the magic 
truth that other birds exist and other perches 
are as important as thine own. I see, in the 
future, a Wap who will teach other birds to 
sing songs, perhaps, sweeter and stronger than 
her own; I see a Wap giving up her own pereh 
in order that a Worthier Than She Shall Oc- 
cupy It.’ ” 

Margaret laid down the manuscript and 
wiped her eyes. 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


307 


“Nan,” she said at last between peals of 
laughter, “ ‘Worthier Than She Shall Occupy 
It’ is all capitalized. It sounds — alarming 
and looks like fury.” 

“Poetic license,” Nancy calmly rejoined lay- 
ing the husked corn in a row. “Two apiece 
and four left over for succotash to-morrow,” 
she counted. Then: “Continue, Meg, I do 
say it, who shouldn’t be forced to, that that is 
my masterpiece. Bunyan isn’t in it for terse- 
ness and understanding of human nature. 
Pitch in. Swift Foot, there are three more.” 

“The Scribbler and the Owl now presented 
themselves as candidates for blessing. The 
Scribbler bore a quill in her hand and the Owl 
looked wise beyond her years and tradition. ‘I 
see’ quoth Hiatini, touching the Scribbler with 
awed and reverential touch, ‘that your pen will 
have it in its power to drag forth from air 
tight compartments, the family skeletons. I 
see your power but I also see your mercy which 
has fed Upon the mercy shown to you on this 
pilgrimage. You will open closet doors only 
to give air and sunlight; you will bring forth 
skeletons merely to endow them again with 
life and cover their shivering bones with good 


808 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


warm flesh. You will do good, not evil, all 
your pen and ink days and you will be honored 
in whatever station of life your father’s politi- 
cal jobs land you!’ ” 

“Well!” Nancy exclaimed gathering the 
husks in her big gingham apron; “I call that 
burst simply grand! It is better even than I 
knew.” 

The girls were rocking to and fro with laugh- 
ter and Miss Rose had to draw back behind the 
shelter of the house for fear of betraying her- 
self. 

“Go on. Swift Foot, I’m a genuis all right, 
though a modest one. Thank heaven! it 
doesn’t take long to cook Country Gentlemen. 
This breed of corn is indeed a perfect gentle- 
man.” 

“Oh, Nan,” Meg wiped her eyes. “I won- 
der if Sally and Mary will understand this — 
this—” 

“Epic,” Nancy suggested. “I think they 
will. Hurry up. Swift Foot. The best is yet 
to be !” 

“Then the Owl raised her soulful eyes to 
Hiatini and gave heed to the words of wisdom 
which flowed from the beloved lips. ‘Wee 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


309 


Owl, you have done much to make me realize 
the Accomplishment for which I yearned. 
When an Owl acknowledges its limitations it 
is well on the way to being an eagle. Not con- 
tent with what it once knew, it reaches up and 
up to crags of learning until it awakens sud- 
denly to the fact that it has evolved! Owl, I 
leave you for awhile, in the Valley of Desire 
knowing full well that you will play the game 
fair until I return. You will keep the flame 
alive and steady. You will work and love and 
grow strong and prove the sacred reality of 
the Camp Fire Spirit. It is you who will light 
the Valley while I journey afar and by your 
faithful service my feet will find the trail lead- 
ing back.’ ” 

“That’s positively pathetic,” whispered Jane 
from her place near the pine tree, “the serious 
touch, I suppose?” 

“Exactly,” Nancy nodded. “Light and 
shade ; pathos and humor. Tricks well known 
to the true artist. Hustle, Meg!” 

“Last came one shrouded in mystery. With 
hanging head and stumbling feet she ap- 
proached and stood before the great Hiatini. 
‘Who art thou?’ breathed Hiatini. T know 


310 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


not/ replied the Shrouded One. ‘I await — my 
name and blessing. On this pilgrimage I have 
blundered on, catching a glimpse, now and 
then, ahead and making for it to the best of my 
ability. I the nameless, crave a title at thy 
hands.’ And then Hiatini, stumped and flab- 
bergasted, realized that she was up against it. 
‘Uncover!’ she commanded. The draperies 
fell and a face scarred by many a lost conflict 
came forth. ‘Look up!’ Eyes full of hope 
and despair — despair in one eye; hope in the 
other — flashed imploringly. Hiatini looked 
compassionately upon the odds and ends that 
had been thrown together in the Nameless One 
and were waiting to be formed and molded. 
Then her heart throbbed in understanding pity. 
After a moment she spoke. ‘N o longer N ame- 
less are you,’ she said kindly, ‘but I dub you. 
Help! I see your mission lying straight and 
clear before you. In helping others to get 
what they most desire you will form yourself 
into something firm and worth while. As in 
the Pilgrim’s Progress of ancient days. Help 
brought others out of trouble and destruction 
and set their feet upon the way to the Gate 
leading to their heart’s desire, so must you, with 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


311 


all in your power, help every other pilgrim and 
by so doing help yourself.’ ” 

Then Margaret laid down the manuscript 
and looked at the author. 

“Oh, Nan,” she said softly; “oh, you dear, 
funny, sweet, old Nan!” 

Nancy got upon her feet and her face was 
serious and thoughtful. 

“Look to it!” she exclaimed gathering up 
her ears of corn, “that no obstinate pilgrim rob 
me of my chance to come into my own.” 

“Never!” cried Jane springing up beside 
Nancy. “We’ll all cry, Help! whenever we 
get stuck. Won’t we, girls?” 

“Yes, yes,” they said — all but Margaret and 
she kept strangely quiet. 

“And you, Meg?” Nancy fixed her brown 
eyes on Margaret’s sweet, firm face. 

“I was just thinking,” Margaret replied; “it 
is so dear to help and help and help, I wonder if 
I could accept help as freely and yet — ” 

“One can be as mean that way as in any 
other.” Nancy seemed talking alone to Mar- 
garet. 

“I know — and it is harder to take than give. 
I was just wondering how it would seem to call 
Help when you get stuck in the slough.” 


312 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Miss Rose did not join the girls just then. 
Slie went, by the back door, to her own room 
and there, alone with shining face, she knelt by 
her window opening to the west and prayed a 
little fervent prayer. It was a prayer a 
tender woman had prayed long ago for all 
yearning, trusting souls. 

“Wash pure my heart and cleanse for me 
My Soul’s desire.” 

All her desire for rest and peace and good- 
ness seemed at that instant to have come true. 

“Oh! my beautiful, holy summer,” she whis- 
pered, “my soul’s desire.” 

And then she went downstairs to her girls. 
They were all busily engaged getting the noon- 
day dinner and they were doing it skillfully 
and well. Not a girl among them but could, 
when necessity demanded, plan, prepare and 
serve a wholesome, dainty meal. 

But it was during the evening that the in- 
vitation to the Town Club was discussed. 

There had been a sharp, severe thunder 
storm at five o’clock and now the cool breeze 
from the northwest came briskly into the open 
windows and warned the occupants of the 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


313 


bright room that hot weather could not be de- 
pended on any longer to last. 

“I smell — pines!” said Sylvia sniffing lux- 
uriously. 

“Old Faithful wants us to know he’s there 
just outside,” Jane replied. 

“The north wind and he are old chums,” 
Nancy added and then Miss Rose told them 
about the invitation. 

“Well, of all larks!” Joy exclaimed, “I dote 
on masquerades above anything. W e had one 
once at school and I was — a doll!” 

“You can’t take that role now,” Sylvia broke 
in, “you’re too fat to carry around; though you 
might be a walking doll.” 

“I have an idea,” Miss Rose interrupted, 
“quite a brilliant one.” Her face was very 
gentle and kind as she spoke. “How about 
going as Pilgrims?” 

Nancy and Margaret gave her a keen glance ; 
but Miss Rose’s face was as bland as could be. 

“It would be so easy to make long, graceful 
gray or white robes with nice, little, pointed 
hoods. Each could carry a staff, and a mask 
like the hood would safely disguise us. The 
costumes would have this merit ; being alike, no 
one would envy another.” 


814 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Superb!” cried Nancy, “and oh, girls, the 
idea is broad and rich with possibilities. We 
could act whatever part we choose. Our fa- 
vorite character! Such fun! Such fun!” 

The room was in & hub-bub. Reading was 
omitted that evening. 

At nine-thirty Uncle Silas came into the 
room with his eyes dancing merrily. Every 
night the old man came up the hill from his 
new, little home, to see if the “children were 
safe and sound.” He had wanted, after the 
wedding, to keep to his bargain and sleep in the 
place but Miss Rose had insisted upon a new 
arrangement. 

“It reflects upon our courage and sense of 
independence,” she had urged. 

“Yes, ma’am, but a bargain is a bargain,” 
Silas returned. “And time was when you all 
wasn’t so brave and independent.” 

“That’s true. Uncle Silas, but this summer 
has done wonders for us. Who could be afraid 
with the sentinel pine standing guard and the 
stars so near and — ” 

“There be dark nights and drab days,” Silas 
interrupted, “and a bargain is a bargain.” 

But in the end Unele Silas consented to 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


315 


sleep in his own home after seeing every 
night that “things was trim and tight.” Be- 
sides, and no one hut Mercy ever knew this, 
many times the old man wakening suddenly 
had a “sense o’ something wrong,” and would 
steal out of his home and go quietly up the hill 
to have a look at the little gray house. Once 
Mercy had gone with him — it was a clear, fair, 
late August night with white moonlight bath- 
ing the lovely hills and meadows and shining 
full on the Presidential Range. They, two, 
old man and wife had, after the investigation 
of the property was over, stood under the pine 
tree hand in hand. 

“What did you dream you sensed, Silas?” 
Mercy had asked. 

“I don’t know as it was anything partic- 
ular,” Silas replied softly. “You know how 
it is when you get what you want after a long 
run, you get kind of ’fraid your breath won’t 
holt out to enjoy your blessings. It’s more a 
sense of wanting to make perfectly sure 
than anything else. I like to be near them 
all; kinder habit! I like to think of these 
here light-hearted critters coming to The 
Corners and setting us, so to speak, on 


316 


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lire; lighting us up, as you might say, with 
their whim whams and what not.” 

“Yes,” Mercy nodded her head; “and show- 
ing us that work and — and life in general can 
he set to music. Silas, I wish we had sung 
more in the past.” 

“Well, there ain’t no law agin singing now 
we’ve learned the tune.” 

And they had gone, humming and singing 
down the hill. 

To-night when Uncle Silas came into the 
living room, Margaret ran up to him and led 
him to the old rocker. 

“How sleek and fat you begin to look, 
Uncle Silas!” she cried. 

Silas looked at his gaunt frame and grinned: 
“Nothing like contentment for making you 
look up!” he admitted. “Mercy is some cook 
though I ain’t the one to say it. Mercy is a 
queer lot when she gets to pining and look- 
ing backward; she lights in and cooks a mess 
or washes up or scrubs and gets the past out 
of her system and then she’s normal again.” 

“Uncle Silas,” Nancy broke in, “that’s 
what we’ve all been doing lately. Getting the 
past out of our systems. Just look at us now 
and think of the — past!” 


THE TOWN CLUB’S DANCE 


317 


She struck an attitude and Uncle Silas 
twinkled. 

“This here air has done wonders for you, 
and no mistake,” he said. “Speaking plain 
and flat footed I must say, that day I fetched 
you all up here in the hay cart, I misdoubted 
your sticking-out properties. I said to Mr. 
Temple down to the store that night, ‘Temple,’ 
says I, ‘that load of airs and frills I landed 
up to the old Miss Patsy Fay’s place some 
hours ago, ain’t going to make it worth the 
price of their return tickets.” 

“But oh! we have, we have,” Sylvia looked 
at Joy remembering their faint hearts a time 
back. 

“By gracious! you have,” Silas agreed. 

And then they had a little singing because 
Uncle Silas loved it so. He chose the hymns 
and songs and his wide taste nearly convulsed 
Nancy. 

“Lead Kindly Light!” he demanded, join- 
ing in with his big, bellowing, untrue, but yet 
sweet, voice, “that’s my favorite of church 
tunes. That and ‘Hark From the Tomb.’ ” 

Then when the notes of Kindly Light had 
sunk into silence, Silas called for various negro 
melodies and patriotic songs. 


318 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Stirring and uplifting!” he said, “and I say 
there ain’t nothing like letting yourself loose 
in music for getting a broader point of view. 
Good night, children, and bless your hearts 
and souls. Good night, good night!” 


CHAPTER XVI 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 

Nancy and Joy sat on the stile by the 
meadow. The Free Delivery Man had come 
and gone. He had left the mail and the coun- 
try gossip. 

“That there hall over the store,” he had said, 
“looks some hall, I tell you. Everything 
ready for the dance to-night and no discrim- 
inatin’ as to age and looks. Yes; me and the 
wife be going. The wife has a new gown. 
Bought with the hen money. Miss F ay’s sug- 
gestion ’bout my giving Sarah a little income 
of her own is workin’ fine an’ when you come 
to think on it a woman as tends hens from 
eggs to Sunday dinner table, ought to get 
something out of them ’cept a jint or a piece 
of breast. Yes; Sarah is real grateful to Miss 
Fay an’ so am I. It warn’t so much close- 
ness ’bout money as ailed me, as it war lack 
o’ thinkin’. Jogging round the route as I do 
from year end to year end ain’t conducive to 

319 


3£0 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


original idees. Minglin’ and jostlin’ with new 
folks is what has stirred us up.” 

There was a large packet of letters for the 
Camp people, but most of them were off on 
business or pleasure, so Nancy and Joy took 
to the stile and digested their own mail mat- 
ter. 

“I wish every one wrote letters on picture 
postals,” said Joy, “they are so easy and you 
get from the picture a whole lot that you don’t 
have to answer. This one’s from Flo Travers. 
She’s at Gay Head, ‘Hideous place! Dressed 
up all the time and same old things going on.’ 
That’s all she says, hut can’t you see it? I 
sent her one of the Corners last week. The 
store and church you know. It’s made her 
envious. Flo loves the unusual things.” 

“I hate picture postals,” Nancy remarked. 
“It’s a lazy way of getting out of writing let- 
ters. I wrote eight pages to Nell Foster three 
weeks ago just exhausting myself about this 
place and the fun we have and look at this!” 

Joy took the card curiously. 

“It — looks like the town jail,” she said. 

“So it is. I dare say the goosie just picked 
it up somewhere and never looked at it. See 
what’s written.” 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


321 


“Having a great time!” Joy read. 

“She ought to be put in the dear old jail 
for such idiocy.” Nancy tore the card 
scornfully and put the pieces in her pocket. 

Then the girls read quietly for a few 
minutes, other letters and postals, but one let- 
ter for each girl was left until the last. 

“I have a letter from Father,” Nancy said 
presently. 

“So have I,” Joy returned. 

“Have we strength to — to face what they 
may contain?” Nancy asked. 

“I suppose we must,” quivered Joy. 
“Isn’t it awful. Nan, when you want anything 
so much — to come smack up against it?” 

“It — is,” Nancy admitted, “and I must say, 
Joy, I think our honored parents have taken 
their time about considering our educational 
proposition. Talk about this being the age of 
the Child, I never read in history where the 
stern parent was more bossy than he is now. 
You open your letter first, Joy, my nature 
is deeper than yours — I suffer and enjoy more 
cruelly.” Nancy grinned mischievously. 

“I’m all of a — tremble.” Joy’s tanned 
hands did shake. 


322 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Let’s — plunge in together!” suggested 
Nancy. 

So the seals were broken and two quiet, 
absorbed girls read and read and read. 

Once or twice Nancy slyly wiped her eyes on 
a corner of her apron — for she had stolen away 
from home duties to get the mail — and once 
or twice Joy murmured apologetically, “how 
the dust does get in your throat.” 

Then after a long silence the letters were 
folded and two very serious young faces con- 
fronted each other. 

“Our fathers and mothers have talked it 
over together, I see,” said Nancy. “Well, 
four heads are better than no heads at all.” 

“My dear, dear father and mother are dis- 
appointed in me!” Joy’s lips quivered; “they 
do not understand that I am just a plain girl; 
they — they think I am a — a genius or some- 
thing!” 

“They’ll recover from the shock,” Nancy 
spoke grimly, “the trouble with my parents is 
— they do not recognize- the fact that I am 
one;” she gave her comical laugh. “They 
think I am foolish but they are not going to 
press the point. I will say for my Daddy 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


323 


that once he is driven to the wall he knows 
it. Besides, he sees the advantage of having 
me about the house and helping him out. I 
fancy that in his innermost soul he knows I 
am right.” 

“My Father says,” Joy went on, “that he 
will agree to what your Father proposes — 
you and I must do it, really, not make believe. 
We must sacrifice something, actually. It’s 
business — and oh! I loathe business. Father 
says, he meant to give me an allowance next 
year of seventy-five dollars a month — I can 
do what I choose with it. Well, that’s all 
right. I’m perfectly willing to give it all 
toward our plan, I know when I get in a hole 
Mother and Father will pull me out.” 

“Mine will not!” Nancy spoke very quietly 
and her laughing eyes were grave. “They 
won’t and I’m proud of them for having so 
much character. Really, Daddy puts this 
whole thing on a high plane. It looks really 
worth while now. Just listen, Joy!” And 
Nancy opened her letter. 

“It is a big thing, my daughter, this ac- 
cepting or declining a higher education. I 
give you the credit of recognizing this and of 


SM 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


having thought deeply of your seheme. If you 
undertake to give to another what you your- 
self do not want, you must indeed give it. 
You must make this young Margaret Lee un- 
derstand that her opportunity is offered by 
two friends who desire to help the world by 
preparing her for a service they cannot offer 
themselves. I will advance any money that 
is necessary and you can repay me as you 
wish — I will see that everything is arranged in 
a businesslike way. You must, you and Miss 
Joy, manage this independent Margaret. No 
one can, or should, come as close to her as 
young things like herself. As for her family — 
your mother has decided that she will call on 
Mrs. Lee, learn to know her better and, with- 
out intruding, seek to help you all on with, I 
must give you and Miss Joy credit by saying, 
a plan that has touched the hearts of us all.” 

Joy was crying quite unreservedly now, and 
Nancy could hardly read the words, her eyes 
were so dim. 

“It’s like a consecration!” she whispered, 
“and I tell you, Joy, my Dad is — is — a 
— gentleman!” 

“So he is,” Joy admitted generously, “and 
— so is your mother! And so are mine!” 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


325 


The confused speech did not cause a 
ripple. 

“I wonder if we can live up to such 
nobility?” 

“I’m — thinking now of — Meg!” Nancy 
murmured. 

“Dear, old, self-sacrificing Meg. Her 
wings have been clipped so short that when 
we go crying, ‘wings for sale; wings for sale’ 
I wonder if she will be able to trade her old 
wings for our larger, stronger ones.” 

“Now you are — talking talk!” Joy said. 

“My stock in trade, Joy, dear.” 

Then the two sat and thought and thought, 
with their eyes fixed on the shining tip of Mt. 
Washington where the new, ghstening snow 
lay like frosting. 

“Suppose — we hadn’t come, this summer!” 
Joy breathed. 

“Suppose, Joy, suppose!” 

Then they decided that they would wait until 
after the fun and frolic at the Club before 
they mentioned the letters. 

“How on earth will you attack Meg?” Joy 
asked. Nancy considered a moment. 

“It’s going to be hard to find the weak spot 


326 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


in her armor,” Nancy admitted. “Like all 
other dear, quiet, softly acting creatures, Meg 
is cast iron underneath. I think we better 
make her feel that she will be a brute of in- 
gratitude to her family if she doesn’t accept. 
We better paint a pathetic picture of what 
she can do for them if she educates herself. 
Let’s lay it on thick about sending her two 
brothers to college, and Gladys abroad to 
study music. Let’s grow real tragic about 
her mother’s old age made easy and glorious 
and her little, little sister’s future made secure 
from want — she dotes on that baby! But for 
heaven’s sake, Joy, don’t let us dwell for a 
moment on Meg’s own share in all this — if we 
win out it will be because we make the flinty 
little thing see she is sacriflcing herself for 
everybody while she gets her soul’s desire!” 

Then sedately the two conspirators de- 
scended from the stile and made their way to 
the little gray house on the hill. At the top 
they came upon Mary and Sally, robed as 
pilgrims and practicing for the evening. 

“Isn’t it funny,” Sally cried, running down 
to meet them, “once you get behind a mask 
and dressed up you can be any one!” 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


827 


“She’s been mimicking you all!” Mary 
laughingly explained. “Do Sylvia as she was 
when she first came, Sally?” 

And, after a moment’s hesitation, Sally 
complied. Mincingly and . scornfully, she 
played her little part and Joy Deering looked 
on in amazement. 

“Wouldn’t Sylvy just feel outraged if she 
saw that?” she asked. “And anyway, she 
doesn’t do it now.” 

“I wouldn’t do it, if she was like that now,” 
Sally explained. “I used to hate her. She 
made all the bad in me boil and bubble and 
run over. I took notes about her and was go- 
ing to put her in a story — for a — villain; I 
call her the phenix. Kind of rising from her 
ashes, you know.” 

Nancy dropped down on a seat in the arbor 
and laughed until she could laugh no more. 

“Do us all!” she pleaded; “oh! Sally do us 
all. I declare I think you’d make your for- 
tune on the stage.” 

“I don’t want her to do me!” Joy broke in. 

“Do me then, Sally. I’m not afraid.” 

So Sally, spurred on by appreciation, “did” 
Nancy. Sylvia’s lofty airs and capers dis- 


328 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


appeared and Naney’s free independent man- 
ner, exaggerated and absurdly boyish, took 
their places, 

“Heavens! am I such a — a bold creature 
as that ?” N ancy asked rather appalled. “Do I 
stride and swing my arms in that fashion and 
shake my shoulders so when I walk?” 

“No, Nan. It’s hideously overdone,” Joy 
indignantly replied. “I hate jokes.” 

“But I must have suggested it!” Nancy did 
not laugh now. “The inside of me isn’t so 
upperty and untrammeled. I must take heed 
of my ways.” 

“I think you’re great!” Sally broke in. 
“You walk and act like what you are.” 

But Nancy’s eyes were grave. Presently 
she said, 

“Do us, one by one, Sally. Let us guess.” 

Sally, highly pleased at her success, began 
the performance. She was unmasked now, 
hut her long pilgrim robe hid her figure. Joy, 
Mary and Nancy, from their seats in the arbor, 
looked at the strange play. 

“Why — it’s — it’s Jane Trevor herself!” 
cried Joy, fairly gaping at Sally. “If I 
didn’t know it couldn’t be I’d say Janey was 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


329 


under that robe. How does she do it? — with- 
out talking and with only her face to help 
her?” 

“It’s perfectly wonderful!” said Nancy. 
“I’m going to tell Professor Alden about it 
when I go home. You know how bright he 
is about character sketches. Go on, Sally, 
you’re a — a — scream!” 

“She can do any one!” Mary exclaimed 
rapturously. “She’s always done it. She 
can do Mr. Fleming with her father’s suit of 
clothes on. She writes things, too, like what 
they say. It’s terrible comical. She’s wrote 
a sermon and it sounds like Mr. Fleming, only 
it’s all a joke.” 

But Sally, warmed up now to fever heat of 
delight, was impersonating Miss Rose, Mar- 
garet, Mercy and even the Knights of the 
Round Table. Her impish little face was like 
a rubber mask. She twisted and distorted it, 
then let it assume soft curves and kindly ex- 
pression. Presently it was Joy herself who 
blandly, ridiculously, and vacantly confronted 
the real Joy bending forward from the arbor 
seat. 

“Oh! I’m sure I don’t look such — a fool as 


330 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


that!” Joy cried, laughing in spite of her- 
self. “I — I am not so — empty-headed as 
that!” 

“Don’t you see,” Mary explained with the 
pride of proprietorship, “she does ’em up 
more comieal on purpose. You see we are 
just hints to Sally.” 

“Just hints!” groaned Nancy, “that’s the 
humiliation. Just hints!” 

Sally was in high feather. “Mother used 
to spank me for it,” she admitted, but once I 
spanked my doll like mother, and after that — 
she never punished me. I tell you I spanked 
that doll real vividly and mother couldn’t 
stand it.” 

“Sally!” Nancy had an inspiration. “At 
Christmas time I’m going to invite you and 
Mary down to New York for a visit!” 

“Oh!” came in a chorus from both girls. 

“I’m going to give you the time of your 
lives if Sally will act for Professor Alden.” 

“I will, sure thing!” Sally would have 
promised anything in that exalted moment. 

“And every one of us will take turns giv- 
ing you a good time,” Joy added magnani- 
mously. 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


331 


“Oh! lands!” Sally sank upon the ground. 
“That’s been my heart’s desire all my life. 
Why, I ain’t never even seen a train of cars 
except on the branch road. I think if once 
I got in a train on the main line — a train go- 
ing somewhere but here, I’d almost die of 
glorification. And as for a steamboat — I’ve 
dreamed of steamboats until I’ve been seasick 
like Pa tells about. I want to see every bit of 
the world before I get through with it — but 
I’ll be thankful to begin at Posting and Noo 
York.” 

“And now Sally is herself!” Nancy laughed 
merrily; “just nice, whimsy Sally with her 
soul’s desire in sight. Now, Sally linkum, 
give us that sermon by Mr. Fleming.” 

“Oh! Nan!” Joy broke in: “That’s sacri- 
legious ; it’s like making fun of the Bible.” 

“Pooh! go on, Sally. If you’re afraid of 
your religion, J oy, run along inside. It can’t 
hurt mine.” 

Sally got up on her feet, ran behind a bench 
near the house and, stretching out her hands, 
looked gravely and penetratingly at her audi- 
ence of three. 

“Dearly b’loved, I’m here to tell you about 


332 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


your sins and get money out of you. I want 
that you should paint the chureh and pay my 
salary up prompt and proper. I want you to 
help me bear up under the burden of losing my 
true and elegant friends up to Camp Brave 
Pine. I don’t know how I am ever going to 
bear up under the affliction of doing without 
Hiatini and the rest — especially Hiatini. I 
want to do my duty by you all, the best way 
I can — and I look to you to help me — more 
specially you young folks with your future be- 
fore you ’stead of behind you.” 

Nancy was doubled over in mirth; Joy was 
laughing helpless and Mary was elated at the 
success of her friend and just at that point 
Miss Rose came out of the house. How much 
she had heard and from where, no one would 
ever know, but her face was quite white and 
grave. She went up to Sally and put her 
hand upon her shoulder. 

“Sally!” she said very earnestly. “Your 
gift can be a very happy or a very cruel one. 
If you use people against themselves to cause 
laughter, I would be sorry to think you were 
given a talent; but if you can show them more 
kindly and fine — it will help them and amuse 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


333 


others as well. Never, Sally dear, never 
again use Mr. Fleming!” 

“I didn’t mean anything horrid!” Sally re- 
plied. “I like Mr. Fleming real well — he 
knows it too. I’d do anything for him.” 

“Then never make him ridiculous, Sally.” 

And that evening at seven o’clock the mas- 
querade at the Town Club took place. 

Mr. Fleming stood at the door of the hall 
and asked every one to raise his or her mask 
before going in. 

“Just to make sure of friends,” he said 
pleasantly. But no one but friends were 
there. Such an innocent, merry company it 
was of young and old ! 

“Might as well be a character while I am 
about it,” Uncle Silas had said; so with 
Nancy’s help he appeared as Christopher Co- 
lumbus. 

“Discovering things is quite in my line,” 
Silas beamed upon Mercy; “continents ain’t 
the only things lying around loose in the ocean 
of life.” 

“Now, Silas, don’t be simple,” Nancy 
cautioned. 

She was impersonating her favorite char- 


334 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


acter in romance — a certain Lady Maude of 
questionable literary value. 

Jane Trevor had helped Mercy with her 
costume but the description had been so vague 
that Jane had been sorely puzzled. 

“She wasn’t much of a muchness,” Mercy 
had explained, “but she was one of them real 
satisfying characters. No matter what hap- 
pened to her — and considerable did happen — 
she was always on top of things. One article 
of clothing she wore always appealed to me. 
These was the words^ — ‘when she rode forth 
she had a falcon on her right arm.’ I looked 
it up in the dictionary and the only falcon I 
could find was a bird. ’Course no one wears 
a bird on her arm — ’tisn’t sensible to suppose 
any one ever did even in them days, but I’ve 
fancied what it might be and I’ve concluded 
p’r’aps it was a kind of shield with a bird 
painted on it.” 

With this clew to follow, Jane had invented 
a costume that was a cross between a court 
dress and Mercy’s Sunday gown, but there 
was a shield endorsed by Jago upon which 
Sporty had painted a fighting rooster with 
wildly disheveled feathers. 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


336 


The knights themselves were resplendent in 
costumes ordered from Boston and carefully 
chosen by Goo Thornton’s mother; who had 
entered into the fun. 

Jago Nichols was resplendent as a Spanish 
Cavalier. His suit was too short and too 
tight for him and it was the hottest thing he 
had ever worn, but he carried his mantle and 
sword in a way that won admiration from the 
village boys and insults from the members of 
his own private party. 

Tom Olney was a Viking and a very fierce 
one at that. He quite frightened Mary Allen 
when he asked her to dance with him. 

Tod Nilson, was a most captivating Court 
Jester. 

“It’s a smart fellow who can act the fool,” 
he had remarked to Jago when first he viewed 
the costume. 

“How about the fellow who doesn’t have to 
act?” Goo brazenly asked. 

“He’s a genius,” Tod pleasantly rejoined, 
setting his bells to ringing. 

Goo himself was a Monk and fell in with the 
Pilgrims quite as a matter of course. 

“I reckon you’ll need me on your hike!” he 


336 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


said pleasantly to the first pilgrim, but Avhen 
she answered in a mumbling voice, that he 
need not flatter himself, he felt quite at sea 
as to which particular pilgrim he was address- 
ing. 

“It’s a mean dodge,” he went on to say, in 
most im-monkly language, “to duplicate 
yourselves so; it puts the rest of us in a blue 
flunk. I bet you get into all sorts of scrapes. 
You’ll have to come to me to confess.” 

At this a very frivolous laugh made the 
monk shrink away to reconnoiter. 

The widow Thorne was, perhaps, the most 
startling figure in the room. 

“Having been so unfortunate with hus- 
bands,” she confided to Mercy, “I ain’t had 
what you might say, an honest chance with 
colors. I ain’t never more’n had mourning off 
than I had to put it on again. I’ve been out 
now for several years and I’m going to revel 
in colors at this party.” 

So as a “human rainbow,” the widow 
Thorne went and took the breath of her vil- 
lage friends by her appearance. 

“I didn’t know as Mis’ Thorne had sich a 
sense of humor,” Mr. Smith exclaimed, as. 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


337 


with startled eyes, he followed the fluttering 
streamers of rainbow-tinted odds and ends 
which comprised the widow’s costume. 

Sporty Nilson was delighted with the 
widow and so was Danny, who had been per- 
mitted to follow his master ; he gazed upon her 
with flattering attention. 

“See here, puppy,” Sporty whispered, lean- 
ing down to fasten Danny’s bow of college 
colors more securely, “you run after that 
fluttering rainbow and you’ll be a dead dog 
for keeps.” 

Danny gave an innocent yelp. 

The village band, composed of the volunteer 
firemen and the one policeman and the sheriff, 
played as if they were inspired. The dancing 
was thoroughly unconventional. 

The company was not critical and those who 
did not care to dance round dances, very 
happily formed square ones and walked or 
pranced through them to the same music that 
timed itself more or less imperfectly to the 
whirling couples. 

Sylvia and Jane Trevor were beautiful 
dancers, but generously and unselfishly they 
took for partners the lame, the halt, and the 


338 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


feminine wall flowers. There was much fun 
and guessing as the evening wore on, as to 
who was who in pilgrim garb. What seemed 
a simple disguise at first, proved to be a most 
distracting one as the confused identities got 
more and more entangled. The girls them- 
selves were much amused by one of their or- 
der who, in turn, acted them all. 

“If I didn’t know better,” Jane Trevor 
whispered to Miss Rose, “I would think that 
was myself out there dancing with that 
dazzling cavalier. There’s something fear- 
fully familiar about that hitch of the right 
shoulder. Mother is always calling my at- 
tention to it — I do it when I’m ill at ease. 
Who has caught on?” 

But Miss Rose did not reply. 

“Who is that acting so conceited and 
foolish?” Sylvia asked, drawing, as she sup- 
posed, Margaret off* in a corner. 

“That snippy horrid one over there? I 
just believe it’s Nancy showing off* — she’s lots 
of fun.” 

“Nancy knew a girl like that once,” came the 
muffled reply. “She told me about her.” 

“She must have been horrid.” Sylvia con- 
tinued. 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


339 


“So self-conscious and airish, as Nancy 
would say.” 

“She was. But Nan says the girl she knew 
wasn’t half bad.” 

“I’m sure I’d hate her.” Sylvia went on. 
“Look at her now, tossing her head and just 
making people notice her. I cannot bear to 
have any girl act that way even in fun.” 

But two mistakes of the evening were not 
fun. They were destined to bring about rich 
results. 

The Spanish Cavalier and one of the pil- 
grims found themselves after a merry two- 
step by themselves near an open window, be- 
neath which the Town Club had arranged a 
sort of un-cozy. Cozy Corner. 

“Let me spread my mantle for you,” said 
the Spanish gentleman. “It doesn’t come off, 
but its length and breadth permit me to utilize 
it for a cushion in time of need.” 

The Margaret-pilgrim laughed her pretty 
friendly laugh and Jago, the Spaniard, 
thought he “had her.” 

“Miss Rose,” he went on, “I just thought 
I knew you. I am glad to get you to myself. 
I have something to tell you. I’ve had an 


340 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


offer to-day. It opens a path for me to what 
I long for — but I’m not quite sure I ought to 
take it. Will it bore you if I tell you?” 

The pilgrim shook her head. 

“It’s from Tod Nilson’s father. He wants 
me to go to college for the next two years with 
Tod — sort of pace him through, you know, 
and all my expenses paid. He put it to me 
as if I were earning my passage chumming 
with Sporty. Of course I know that’s all 
nonsense. Sporty could wade through and — 
I don’t want to be a sponge.” 

“And yet you want the education?” 

Jim Nichols was so excited that he did not 
notice the low whispered words or tone. 

“More than anything on earth,” he said 
boyishly. “I think I could make it — with 
three more years!” 

“Make it?” 

“Yes — ^my goal. Civil engineering. I 
want to get to Panama. Get to the new 
places and try my luck at hitting the bull’s 
eye. If I don’t take this chance I must — go 
into business next year. The course is too 
hard for me to — work my way through!” 

Something seemed to hurt the heart of the 
listening pilgrim. 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


841 


“Couldn’t you take it as a loan?” she asked 
bravely. “You know you’ll make good; you 
could surely pay it back.” 

“I tried that — but Mr. Nilson only laughed. 
He said if I could help Sporty win out — it 
would be worth double what was offered. I 
suppose he thought he could make me believe 
that!” 

“Then,” and now the little pilgrim’s voice 
was shaky and eager, “you could give it hack 
another way. Pass it on ! When you become 
famous and rich and powerful — you could 
pass it on to other girls or boys; there are al- 
ways so many longing for a chance — you could 
remember and pay them instead of Mr. Nil- 
son, who does not need it.” 

“I wonder.” 

The Cavalier looked afar. The little pil- 
grim felt a hot tear roll down under her mask. 
She was looking very, very close at hand. 
She seemed to feel her mother, and the children 
clutching, calling her to help them, help them 
always! Just for a moment Margaret Lee 
wished that she were a boy and her chance 
was given her! Then the wish passed and 
something her baby sister had said to her once 


342 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


came oddly to her now. She had got up in 
the night to give the child a drink of water, 
“Meggie,” the soft voice had said, “just 
s’pose I should wake up some black night and 
there wasn’t any Meggie to give me a drink!” 

No, it must always be as it was. She, the 
big sister, must be ready to help them all 
through the days and nights 1 

“I — think I’ll risk it! Thank you. Miss 
Rose.” 

And then the little pilgrim and the excited 
Spaniard rejoined the dancers. 

Then it was Nancy who received her 
awakening a little later. Passing by Mr. 
Fleming who stood near the stairway, she 
nodded pleasantly and was surprised to find 
him a minute later beside her. 

“You look as young and giddy as your 
girls to-night,” said the minister and Nancy 
was too amazed to reply. “I have sometimes 
feared the burden of those flighty youngsters 
would wear upon you. It was positively 
noble for you to undertake such a vacation — 
but then I can imagine you doing just such 
unselfish, womanly things. Won’t you sit 
down on the stairs for a moment, I want to 
tell you something?” 


HOW IT TURNED OUT 


343 


From sheer inability to do anything else, 
Nancy sat down. 

“I want to tell you — ” 

“Don’t you do it!” Nancy gasped. “Don’t 
say another word! This isn’t Miss Rose 
— it’s — it’s one of those giddy burdens who is 
wearing the life out of — Miss Rose!” 

Mr. Fleming started back. “Which one?” 
he asked, surprise and dismay holding him. 

“If I should tell you,” — Nancy was herself 
again now and disguising her voice beautifully 
— “you’d hate her forever after — but if you 
don’t know you’ll sort of scatter your — your 
hate and spread it on thin and forget it.” 

“I shall never hate you — Miss Nancy!” 

And then, vanquished and humiliated, 
Nancy ran away. 


CHAPTER XVII 


IT WAS UP TO NANCY 

Nancy Mowbray, Helper-in-General-of- 
Camp-Brave-Pine, was, to use her own words, 
“gorged with terrible responsibilities.” 

She had come down the hill from the little 
gray house alone to have it out with herself. 
When Nancy made it known that she was 
about to sally forth there were always candi- 
dates as companions, so this afternoon Nancy 
had not announced her going forth. She 
sneaked away with a clear conscience, and once 
she gained the vantage point of distance and 
clear vision she shook her brown fist at the 
dear home-place on the opposite hill and mut- 
tered with her fine eyes rather misty: 

“Oh! you!” 

This sounded unintelligible but Nancy’s 
mood was confused and excited. “Oh! you!” 
was about as clear as any remark she could 
have made. 


344 


IT WAS UP TO NANCY 


•345 


The sunlighted meadow lay between 
Nancy’s recently gained hilltop and that of 
the small gray house, brimming with dear hu- 
man problems as Nancy very well knew. 

“And it’s up to me,” she said to herself aloud 
for company’s sake; “up to me to order them. 
I, who hate to manage folks and play the 
part of dumb, blind Fate. I’m not blind and 
I do not dare to be dumb and there it is !” 

Then Nancy selected the flattest rock she 
could find, braced her back against a sturdy 
oak which had done some bracing against stiff* 
gales itself in its lifetime, and — considered. 

“Margaret’s educational problems are easy,” 
the perplexed Nancy confided to the inner 
Nancy. “I can bully her into the solution if 
the worse comes to the worst, and besides, in 
the end, she can say yes or no and make short 
shift of it — but this other!” 

With this Nancy took off" her broad linen 
hat, flung it several feet away with an ex- 
pressive “there!” let down her lovely smooth 
brown braids and pressed her head against the 
friendly oak. Her kindly eyes took in the 
fair scene that had become so dear and familiar 
during the past happy weeks. There was an 


346 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


edge of golden rod around the meadow and it 
leaned gracefully against the stone wall. The 
trees were changing rapidly from the rich 
green of summer to the glorious tints of au- 
tumn. There was a fringe of trees near the 
meadow that the girls watched daily. Every 
night a magic touch transfigured them. 

“Beautiful, wonderful summer!” whispered 
Nancy. 

She clasped her knees in her strong, young 
arms and fairly yearned over the tender sight 
below. 

“Can it ever be the same again?” 

A bird off in the distance gave a burring, 
joyful cry. It seemed to trill; “Better! 
Better! Better!” 

“I don’t believe it,” Nancy flung back. 
Then her troubles gripped and held her. She 
was not thinking of Margaret, although she 
and Joy had come to a grand conclusion and 
were ready to attack the calm unsuspecting 
Swift Foot at the best possible moment. 
What Nancy was thinking of, with all her 
might and main, was Mr. Fleming’s words and 
voice on the night of the dance at the Town 
Club. He had mistaken her for Miss Rose, 


IT WAS UP TO nancy; 347 

and, to a certain extent, she must handle the 
situation for Miss Rose. In all great mo- 
ments of life Nancy had to have companion- 
ship, so now she flung out her perplexity and 
troubles to the wide, beautiful world that lay 
at her feet. Her words seemed set to music 
of the rustling, drying leaves, the calls of birds 
and the cool northwest wind. 

“Just think of that adorable little kinder- 
garten in New York that couldn’t live with- 
out Miss Rose! Just think of taking the 
cream of everything and planting it here on 
these hills. Jane and her mother are bad 
enough, but Miss Rose is a public character 
and she is needed — there!” 

“Tut! tut!” chirped a bird above Nancy’s 
head. 

“What do you mean by that?” The girl 
demanded indignantly. “This is no tut! tut! 
matter. If I keep quiet that — Mr. Fleming 
may never work himself up to the same pitch 
again and Miss Rose will never guess and she 
may slip back to New York and Mr. Fleming 
may get a call to go somewhere else and that 
will be the end of it!” 

“Tut! tut!” 


348 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Oh! keep still,” Nancy ejaculated. 
“There are some birds I — abhor!” 

“Hor!” shrieked a crow bent on business in 
the cornfield off toward the village. 

“Well, I declare!” Then Nancy laughed 
her saving laugh and was herself again. 

“Just suppose,” she went on more calmly, 
“that he had said that thing to Miss Rose 
herself — ^what then?” 

The supposes and the perhapses stretched 
far and wide in Nancy’s thought. “And he 
believed I was Miss Rose at first and he said 
he would never hate me — even when he knew 
I was Nancy. That shows that he trusted me 
and he is such a shy, queer man but — he isn’t 
‘middling.’ I’ve learned that. Perhaps 
Miss Rose could make him into a great, strong 
man — perhaps he — needs her! What can I 
do?” 

It was a very humble Nancy who asked 
that last question. A dear, sweet, tender 
Nancy who had a big girl-heart that wished 
happiness and joy for every one. 

“Oh! this blessed summer! Just suppose 
we girls had all gone driving off to fashionable 
places instead of getting into each other’s hearts 


IT WAS UP TO NANCY 


349 


and souls? Oh! what — possibilities. And to 
think that bungling old I should have it in 
my power to — ” Nancy smiled broadly — “to 
enrich the world by giving two of my bestest 
bests to it.” 

Then the girl on the rock grew very quiet . 
and still. Her merry, quizzical face fell into 
serious lines — she was suddenly transformed 
into the Nancy that only God and a very, very 
few ever saw. Looking about shyly she 
dropped upon her knees and pressed her 
bowed head against the tree. Then she 
prayed her prayer. It was like an intimate 
appeal from a generous nature to a dear, wise 
friend. 

“Please let me, all my life — help! Please 
use me, kind Father — it is so blessed to be 
used. Just let me be — one of your girls to 
carry the light you have entrusted to me, far 
and wide. Just as far and wide as I am able 
to go. And, dear Father, if I cannot go as far 
as another, or carry the light so high — let me 
be glad and never mind at all — if you give it 
to another to carry. Anyway, I can always 
light a little fire of love and service and health 
to ‘warm the hearts of lonely mortals.’ ” The 


850 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


words made Nancy think of other lines of the 
Sweet Camp Fire poem and she repeated 
them slowly and reverently : 

“To warm the hearts of lonely mortals 
Who stand without their open portals 
The torch shall draw them to the fire 
Higher, higher 
By desire. 

“Whoso shall stand by this hearth stone, 
Flame-fanned, 

Shall never, never stand alone.’' 

Nancy rose to her feet and her wide eyes 
seemed to catch a glimpse of her vision. 
Strong, loving, and yearning for service, she 
saw her possibility. 

“I could teach in that dear kindergarten if 
God wanted Miss Rose up here for Mr. Flem- 
ing. I could even take a hand in Meg’s home 
— Mrs. Lee likes me. I could help there and 
give Father some hours, too. And I’m go- 
ing to have a fire on my own hearth in my own 
sitting room every night this winter and I’m 
going to make it a place for lonely mortals — 
girls and boys who have only boarding house 
nooks to live in — to come to and get warm! 











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IT WAS UP TO NANCY 


351 


Mother will help me; and Bobbie, the darling, 
will be in his element. As many as I can 
wheedle in shall know that they shall never, 
never stand alone again if I can help it !” 

The leaves above fairly quivered and a flock 
of birds, testing their wings for the long au- 
tumn flight, whirled overhead in an ecstasy 
of delight. 

“I love to live!” Nancy murmured. “It is 
heavenly to feel the — the power in you!” 

From afar came the call, “Wohelo!” 
Again and again it sounded. Could it be din- 
ner time? Nancy looked at her watch. It 
was twelve o’clock. The vision on the mount 
had taken more time than one would think. 
But that is the way with visions. 

“Come, Nancy! Pack your big ideas in 
your pocket and come along!” said the radiant 
Nancy to her old self. The hat was re- 
claimed ; the long braids wound about the girl- 
ish head. 

“Don’t you get puffed up, Nancy Mow- 
bray, alias Help. You’re only going to help. 
Don’t forget that. And remember another 
thing. The ones you help may often forget 
all about you and you mustn’t mind that. 


352 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


That’s what all helpers are for and you must 
go on finding more folks to help right up to 
the end.” 

Down the hill went the plain, ordinary 
Nancy-girl, hut, as she went, she sang her 
father’s favorite hymn — she was beginning to 
love it, too. 

“The mount for vision — but below 
The paths of daily duty go, 

And nobler life therein shall own 
The pattern on the mountain shown/* 

And so Nancy came to the meadow singing 
clearly and with her head raised high — 

“but below 
The paths of daily duty go/* 

She had had a glimpse and Nancy was one to 
remember “the pattern on the mountain 
shown.” 

It was that very evening that she and Miss 
Rose had it out. They went for the mail to- 
gether and there was a bit of waiting-time at 
the stile, for the postman was delayed. 

“The shadows fall early,” Miss Rose said as 
they sat side by side. “It will soon be time 
to go home, Nancy girl.” 


IT WAS UP TO NANCY 


353 


Nancy did not answer but her throat 
tightened. 

“I’ve been thinking of that dear hymn your 
father sings so beautifully, Nan. You know 
the one about the mount for vision.” 

“Why, Miss Rose, this very day I was sing- 
ing that as I crossed the meadow. How very 
odd! I wonder what made you think of it?” 

“Oh! I was up on the hill opposite ours quite 
early. All at once it — ^the hymn came to me, 
for I seemed to see things so clearly. If you 
could only remember the vision as plainly as 
the paths of duty which are trodden.” 

Nancy was looking away from Miss Rose, 
but presently they began to sing together : 

“And nobler life therein shall own 
The pattern on the mountain shown/' 

The still beauty of the summer night seemed 
to press close about the two and hold them 
together. Miss Rose put out her hand and 
found Nancy’s coming forward to meet hers. 

“Nice Nancy!” 

“Nice Hiatini!” Then: 

“Miss Rose, suppose a very great and 
wonderful secret came to you that was meant 
for another, what should one do with it?” 


354 ! 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Pass it on, Nan, or give the real owner a 
chance to take it to the right person. I hope, 
my dear, you haven’t been reading other peo- 
ple’s letters or eavesdropping.” 

Miss Rose laughed. The idea of Nancy 
doing anything underhand was truly comical. 

“I wish it had been anything as easy as 
that,” Nancy said. “But to have any one 
plump right into you and bang a secret 
straight into your heart before you knew where 
you were — I tell you that’s — fierce!” 

“It certainly is.” Miss Rose did not laugh 
now but she pressed Nancy’s hand closer. 
“You make me think of my dear Aunt Patsy!” 
she said; “she was such a perfect old darling. 
To her came every one in the village with their 
secrets and hopes — why the little gray house 
was fairly bursting with them. Aunt Patsy 
used to say that she felt like a pickpocket. 
She really felt that in some way she wrenched 
people’s secrets. She never did — folks just 
naturally came to her, I suppose. Living in 
the old home has made me think of Aunt 
Patsy more than I have in long years. I get 
homesick for her sometimes. I can see her 
now every time I shut my eyes. She used to 


IT WAS UP TO NANCY 


355 


sit by the western window of the upper room 
— Meg’s bedroom and mine. The same old 
chintz-covered rocker was there. Often I 
think I would give anything — almost any- 
thing, to kneel down by Aunt Patsy, put my 
head in her lap and tell her all about it. I 
have never had any one all my own, my very, 
unattached own, since Aunt Patsy died. I 
have you all and many dear friends and the 
blessed babies in the kindergarten, but oh! 
Nancy, every woman feels the need of owniest 
owns at times. Christmas and holidays you 
feel it. You’ll always be a secret gatherer, 
Nancy dear. Every girl here feels it and it 
is a sacred thing. Sometimes you’ll be tired 
and feel burdened, but nothing else in life is 
so beautiful as the privilege of — helping 
along!” 

“Oh! Miss Rose,” and then Nancy did one 
of her queer, erratic things. She jumped 
from the stile and stood in front of Miss Rose 
quite stiff and white. She looked like a fright- 
ened girl about to recite a piece and when she 
spoke she sounded so, too, the jumble for a 
few moments meant nothing at all to her au- 
dience of one. 


356 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“He thought I was you. It was the robe 
and — and his nearsightedness. He said — I 
can’t remember what he said — it didn’t 
amount to much but he said it like a sermon or 
prayer and then I made him reel by owning up 
and you know, Miss Rose, that when a timid 
person gets warmed up to doing a thing once, 
he may not be able to do it again and two lives 
might be wrecked and blasted and I do think 
every one should have a choice of kindergar- 
tens and parsonages and a world duty or a 
parish duty. There are things to do every- 
where, gracious knows ! and I didn’t dare keep 
this to myself for when he said he didn’t hate 
me I knew it was because he thought I’d have 
decency and justice enough to help him out! 
Thank heaven, that’s done!” 

Nancy wiped her brow and panted, but Miss 
Rose only stared at the pale, excited girl in 
silence. 

“Miss Rose, why don’t you say something? 
Of course you know this terrible thing was 
hurled at me when I had no idea it was com- 
ing. You see it had to come; it was aimed at 
you, but it hit me and there was nothing for 
me to do but pitch it on to you and you need 


IT WAS UP TO NANCY 


357 


never think I’ll refer to it again. I’m not very 
tactful, but you can rely upon me.” 

“Oh! Nancy, Nancy!” Somehow Miss 
Rose was in Nancy’s strong young arms. 
She, who had been the unselfish guide of so 
many young things, was now the youngest of 
them all and Nancy seemed the oldest. 

“There, there, dearie!” whispered Nancy. 
“I don’t know whether you are laughing or 
crying, but anyway it’s between us forever and 
forever.” 

“Oh! Nan, I’m — I’m doing both. I ought 
to be ashamed to be so silly. Why, what will 
you think of me? I’m thirty-eight. Nan, 
think of that ! Thirty-eight and whatever will 
your families think of me?” 

“Well, my family will think one thing!” 
Nancy’s hand was smoothing the head upon 
her breast; “just one thing or I’ll know the 
reason why ! Gracious, it is no light and 
simple thing to — to be like your Aunt Patsy 
and me. Miss Rose, are you laughing more 
than you are crying? I don’t want to pry, 
but tell me just that.” 

“Nancy — I’m — I’m about half and half.” 

“Any leaning to — one side or the other?” 


358 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Oh! Nancy.” And with that Miss Rose 
began to laugh helplessly and uncontrollably. 
“I believe you are the most precious, comical 
goose on earth.” 

And just then the postman came in sight, 
his big white horse clumping along the road 
as leisurely as if the mail were early instead 
of late. 

But the subjeet of Nancy’s secret was not 
referred to again. There were many letters 
and interesting looking packages and Miss 
Rose was her calm managing self once more. 
She did not even ask Nancy not to mention 
what lay between them. She took it for 
granted. But late that night, lying wakeful 
and restless upon her cot, Nancy thought to 
herself : 

“Now I’m not aehing to know things, no 
one can call me snoopy, but I’d just like to 
know a little more. This is going to be a 
Lady and the Tiger thing I suppose. But 
thank heaven! I’ve done my duty, my whole 
duty, and it nearly finished me. 

“Now, Naney Mowbray, shut your eyes, 
count slowly and conscientiously two hundred 
and — forget it!” A cloek downstairs struck 
eleven. 


IT WAS UP TO NANCY 359 

“One hundred and ninety-nine — two hun- 
dred!” 

Naney sat up in bed and looked out at the 
white moonlight flooding the side yard. 

“Now, mercy me!” she muttered, “do you 
think it’s my duty to — set him right? Well, 
I declare! Why, I’m only seventeen and 
three quarters. She is thirty-eight, though 
you’d never think it! And he’s older than 
that or I miss my guess. And what could I 
teU him anyway? Good gracious! have I got 
to settle this whole summer for folks I’d like 
to know? Can’t I have any fun of my own?” 

Then, because Nancy was tired and excited, 
she began to cry softly and pitifully, little 
knowing that Aunt Patsy Fay in that same 
little room used to do the same thing when the 
burdens and secrets had worn upon her a bit. 

Presently Nancy got up and went to the 
stand by the window. On it lay her writing 
pad, fountain pen and candle. With close- 
set lips she knelt down, lighted the candle, and 
plunged in. 

“Dear Mr. Fleming: 

“All I can say is that it seemed to me she 


360 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


laughed more than cried. It was all pretty 
muggled, but at least I know she laughed at 
last, but whether it was at you or me I couldn’t 
say. It might be worth your finding out if 
you are willing to take a chance. 

“Yours respectfully, 

“Nancy Mowbray.” 

“There!” said Nancy, getting on her feet. 
“That’s the last blessed thing I can or will do 
for them. I wouldn’t take the chance if I 
were he, but that’s not my affair.” 

Then Nancy went back to bed, turned and 
smoothed her pillow, pulled the old patch- 
work quilt over her and fell at once into the 
sweetest, deepest sleep. 

The clock downstairs struck twelve and one! 
The moonlight came straight in Nancy’s win- 
dow now and lay over her narrow bed like 
a blessing. The girlish figure was still; the 
kind face pathetically young and peaceful. 
Then some one came into the room, and bend- 
ing over the pillow, looked long and lovingly 
at the sleeping girl, 

“Dear, dear Help! Have you shown me 
the way to my heart’s desire? What is my 
heart’s desire?” 


IT WAS UP TO NANCY 


361 


Then as light as a touch of the midnight 
breeze, a kiss, as fond as Nancy’s own mother 
could have given, fell on the placid brow. 

“Dear, brave, loyal child!” 

And then, in tiptoeing out of the room, 
Miss Rose placed her hand on the table to 
steady herself and knocked off a letter, en- 
veloped and stamped — for Nancy never did 
things half way I The moonlight was so bright 
and clear that without realizing that she was 
reading the writing Miss Rose saw the ad- 
dress! For a moment her heart throbbed and 
beat wildly and she almost crushed the letter 
in her hand. But presently she laid it down 
and stepped from the room with bowed head. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 

Margaret, Joy and Nancy, were in the 
kitchen. The day was crisp and fine and the 
three were getting up a company dinner. 

“Just fancy the feelings of the Knights 
when Miss Rose hears down upon them with 
this sudden invitation. Sunday night tea 
they take for granted now and perhaps a din- 
ner thrown in once a week if they’re good, but 
since they’ve taken to supplying us with fish 
and Mr. Fleming deluges us with vegetables 
and fruit we have to get them to help us eat > 
things up.” 

Nancy paused and took breath. 

“I dare say they feel real flattered and con- 
ceited,” Joy put in, hulling blackberries for 
a delectable pudding that Margaret was read- 
ing about from a cook book. 

“Well, let the innocents think what they 
please. So long as they help wash dishes and 
continue the fish — we can stand it!” Nancy 

362 


HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 363 


was stringing beans airily and jauntily. 
“Just think, I used to cut the ends of beans 
and then strip them brutally up and down 
both sides. Now, thanks to Mrs. Aden, I 
pop off the ends — thusly! Then shred them 
up like a lady. It’s quite artistic this way. 
What kind of fish was donated yesterday, 
Joy?” 

“I— I think they said cod — or maybe it was 
whale. Anyway they caught it down at Bea- 
ver Dam. The boys went with Jim — what’s 
his name? They got up at four o’clock. 
They always get up exactly at four o’clock 
when they go fishing with Jim. That’s the 
critical hour, he says.” 

“You little idiot!” Nancy said pleasantly 
and frankly; “don’t you know better than to 
think cod or whale is native to these waters?” 

Margaret laughed as she tried to keep the 
ingredients of the pudding in her mind. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Joy returned 
good-naturedly; “there is an awful lot of it. 
About a half bushel I think and it’s all 
cleaned, too. I’m thankful for that. There’s 
something so cool and — and unresponsive 
about fish. I hate to handle them.” 


364 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Two generous cups of flour!” repeated 
Margaret. 

“Nan, what would you say was a generous 
cup?” 

“The dipper,” said Nan, snipping her crisp 
heans. 

“Mercy, Nan!” 

“Well, you asked my opinion. If you 
want me to modify it I will say the cracked 
mug that is like the widow’s cruse. No matter 
how much you drink, there’s always something 
in the bottom.” 

“Silly, Nan! But what is a generous cup?” 

There being no answer to this Margaret 
filled a coffee cup and added a little for good 
measure, then she said quietly as she poised the 
second cup full, “I had the oddest letter from 
Mother last night. She’s actually contem- 
plating giving up our big, old house and tak- 
ing a flat. She says she can lease the house 
for a sum that will more than cover the ex- 
pense of moving and the rent of a fair sized 
apartment.” 

“I see my noble parents’ hands in this!” 
muttered Nancy, grimacing at Joy. 

“What?” asked Joy who always wanted 


HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 365 


hints issued with explanations. Nancy 
frowned darkly. 

“But think of Mother and me and the chil- 
dren in a few rooms when we’ve always spread 
ourselves all over. I’ve often said that, 
pinched as we have sometimes been, we’ve 
always been able to get out of each other’s 
way. Of course I will write and tell mother 
not to do it. She’s thinking of economy, but 
I will take some pupils to help out, or tutor 
some youngsters. There are several hours a 
day that I can spare.” 

Joy looked imploringly at Nancy and 
Nancy glowered at Joy. 

“What ails you two?” Margaret asked, 
weighing her sugar nicely. 

“See here!” blurted out Nancy — “Don’t 
you write that letter! Just when things are 
going nicely why do you want to spoil them? 
It isn’t like you, Meg.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Mar- 
garet’s voice was low and full of wonder. 
Nancy pulled the last string off the last crisp 
bean before she made reply, then she said: 

“Meg, did you ever hear the story of the 
hunch-backed prince?” 


366 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“No.’" 

“Well, there he was hunched-up and crip- 
pled, but with a great and splendid ambition 
to see everything and do big things. Along 
came a giant with an empty noddle but enor- 
mous height and mighty legs. When he 
heard and saw the prince, what does Mr. Giant 
do but put the dwarfed prince on his shoulders 
‘and now’ he said, ‘you can see farther than 
I ever could and I can carry you wherever you 
want to go!’ Meg, you are the hunched- 
backed prince!” 

“Thank you!” Margaret laughed and took 
the berries from Joy. 

“And Joy and I are the silly-noddled giant 
— sort of Siamese twins giant.” 

“Thank you!” cried Joy, tossing her head. 
Nancy was off at full speed now. 

“Oh! Meggie dear, don’t you dare balk the 
most heavenly plan that ever was. I wanted 
to break this to you gently in a fine poetical 
way, but as usual, I am using a gun. Meg — 
it’s this! Joy and I are stupids as you very 
well know. We’d disgrace any college we en- 
tered, but you — oh! Meg, we have learned all 
about your longing and we know what splendid 


HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 367 


material you are and Joy and I — really Joy 
and I, with our own money are going to put 
you through until you become so wonderful 
and famous that you will carry us all into glory 
and renown. It’s all fixed. All you’ve got 
to do is to — let us manage.” 

Margaret had dropped the iron spoon she 
held and sunk into the chair by the table. Her 
eyes looked big and frightened — she was gaz- 
ing into her Promised Land like one half 
asleep. She could not understand — she could 
only look! After a minute she said faintly: 

“Just for a moment I forgot — Mother and 
the children!” 

“Meggie!” Joy was beside her, her arms 
about the tall, slim form. “It’s the heavenli- 
est thing girls were ever able to do. You must 
let us. We’ll try and take your place and 
ease your mother and when you come out of 
college — ^just think!” 

Margaret did think and it bowed her head 
upon her folded arms while sobs shook her 
body. 

“You’ll be famous some day,” Nancy was 
saying soothingly; “you have no right to de- 
fraud yourself and us. It’s only a loan, Meg. 


368 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


I know how you feel, dear. It’s our very own 
money, too, and we’ve got to sacrifice our- 
selves — think of that, Meg! sacrifice ourselves! 
If you fail us or flunk we’ll take it out of you!” 

“Oh, oh!” Margaret moaned: “I shall al- 
ways worship you for the thought, girls, but 
— it is impossible!” With that she rose sud- 
denly and by a wild gesture swept the dish of 
pudding off the table and onto the flpor with 
a mushy crash that brought them all to their 
senses. 

“Heavens!” shrieked Joy — “no dessert!” 

“Sweep it out of the back door!” com- 
manded Nancy with fine indifference; “we’ve 
got to settle this college question now and 
here. Margaret, do be sensible. We’re only 
asking you to do for us what we couldn’t do 
for ourselves. Think what it will mean for 
Joy and me to look at you and say ‘we helped!’ 
Just put yourself outside yourself and give 
yourself some good advice.” 

Margaret was very quiet again. Her face 
had the rapt, white look that came to it in 
hours of exaltation. She was thinking of Jim 
Nichols and her advice to him. How clearly 
she could see it for him! Why should she 


HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 369 


deny herself the justice she meted out to 
others? And then in that still moment again 
the vision claimed her. Free to work and 
study — what might she not do? She felt all 
the ambition and strength of her past hopes 
rising within her — the hopes that she believed 
had died when her father left her. If she did 
not accept this wonderful offer she could do 
little for her loved ones at the best, but with 
an education and training — ” The fair au- 
tumn scene outside the kitchen window glis- 
tened through the tears — the proudest, 
happiest tears — of Meg’s young life. She 
turned to Nancy and Joy and stretched out 
her arms. 

“To think you — thought of me in this way! 
How could you, you blesseds? What have I 
ever done to — win me this?” 

Nancy had the pale girl in her arms, while 
Joy, leaning on the mop, with which she was ► 
discouragingly trying to clean the pudding 
from the floor, regarded them with soft, shin- 
ing eyes. 

“Now, Meggie,” a suspicious quiver shook 
Nan’s voice: “don’t make me break down! 
Once I let myself go — there’s no telling ! 


STO 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


You will do it, dear old thing, won’t you? 
You will go to college for Joy and me, won’t 
you? You will study and be a dear, old grind, 
won’t you, chummie? And no one must know 
but us — and our parents. It’s a splendid ad- 
venture, that’s what it is: Little daffy Joy 
and me rigging you out with an — an armor 
and sword and big, fine you striding ahead and 
winning the battles we never could have 
won! We will stand by the side of your 
triumphant passage, Meg, and — and root you 
for all we’re worth!” 

And now it was Joy who was crying undis- 
guisedly and eloquently. 

“Oh, oh!” she sobbed, swishing the mop with 
its sticky mass before her toward the door. 
“I never did a good thing before in my life! 
Isn’t it heavenly? Oh! thank you, thank you, 
Meggie, for letting me find myself!” 

“But — the children and mother!” 

“Now, Margaret — leave them to us.” 
Nancy was smoothing Meg’s hair with that 
kindly touch of hers that one never forgot. 
“The apartment for a few years will do them 
good — draw them closer together! And by 
and by, why you will be able to run the big 
house again as a side issue !” 



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TO THINK YOU TBOUGHT OF ME IN THIS WyW7 


IT HAVE I EVER DONE TO - VIN ME TEfiS? 

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HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 3T1 


“It’s the most wonderful thing I ever 
heard of!” Margaret drew sticky little Joy 
into the embrace. “And just you two girls!” 

“It’s the Camp Fire spirit,” Joy panted 
from out Margaret’s hug; “it’s — just that.” 

“The beans,” cried Nancy. “It’s always 
beans at the psychological moment in this 
camp !” 

“Take off the top ones!” commanded Mar- 
garet, her common-sense self at once, “don’t 
mess the scorched bottom ones. There! fling 
them in this pot. Hark! Are the boys com- 
ing?” 

Joy ran to the window. 

“They are!” she said. “Off with your 
aprons, girls.” 

It was a rule of the camp that the house- 
keepers should be ready to welcome visitors 
at any time. 

“My shoes are — a sight!” moaned Joy. 
“That pudding was the most extensive pud- 
ding. You go on, girls. I’ll stay and fix the 
fish. Everything else is done.” 

By the time Joy had her nice fish browned 
and crisp the oncoming party, announced by 
Danny, was by the arbor. 


372 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Living on the hill,” murmured Joy to her- 
self as she slipped upstairs to change her shoes, 
“has its advantages. You always see the foe 
advancing.” 

Joy’s eyes were shining and her heart was 
as light as thistle down. 

“My! how the goodness oozes through me,” 
she whispered smiling to herself as she fanned 
her pretty cheeks — “this is living and no mis- 
take.” 

The dinner was a great success and was ac- 
companied by jokes and much laughter. Be- 
tween courses there were snatches of song, 
too, for the unconventional meals were free 
but never disorderly. Miss Rose was a per- 
fect chaperone. 

“She refines, but does not confine,” Jago 
once said, and that was about it. 

Suddenly, when the lack of dessert was be- 
ing apologized for, Jane Trevor remarked: 

“Where’s Mr. Fleming these golden days? 
He hasn’t been around for nearly a week.” 

“He turns up all serenely every day at our 
shack!” Sporty replied, flinging the apprecia- 
tive Danny a half slice of bread. “Rather 
too serenely, I should say. If he wasn’t a 


HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 373 


minister, I’d make a wager he’d got religious.” 

“Maybe he’s in love!” suggested Joy bland- 

ly- 

“Wouldn’t it be great fun to see any one 
like him just plain in love? I’ve often won- 
dered how ministers and undertakers ever hap- 
pened to think of — ” 

At this Nancy brushed a glass of water from 
the table and the contents all trickled off into 
Joy’s lap. She made a bound from her chair 
and managed to topple Sporty over. Sporty 
was balancing himself on the two hack legs 
of his chair and the onslaught had taken him at 
an unguarded moment. Danny, frightened 
and amazed at the unlooked-for confusion, 
leaped at every one in turn, capering and yelp- 
ing with excitement. 

“Whew!” muttered Nancy in the general 
uproar, “and all because the village minister 
is off somewhere — instead of attending to his 
duty!” 

When the party had turned to and cleared 
the debris away, the long afternoon stretched 
before them. While the sun lay warm and 
full upon the hilltop, the out-of-doors was 
beautiful, so they all went to the arbor. 


374 . 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Jago had his violin; Sporty had his flute. 
Jane and Sylvia had mandolins and the 
others sang — not very well, to be sure, but 
sweetly, though out of tune. Presently Jago 
lay down his violin — he really played so much 
better than the others that, as Sporty re- 
marked, he was a reflection instead of an in- 
spiration. 

“I’ll do a solo by and by,” Jago promised 
with a good-natured laugh. Then he went 
over to Miss Rose and leaned against the post 
of the arbor near which she sat. 

“I’m — agoing to do it!” he whispered. 
“Somehow your advice cleared the cobwebs 
and I’m going to take the chance. That, pass- 
ing it on to some other fellow set it right. 
I’m going to do that.” 

Miss Rose looked at him vaguely. 

“My advice?” she asked, “about what? 
And what are you contemplating, dear boy?” 

So sincere and honest did Miss Rose look 
that Jago merely stared in surprise. 

“Why, the night of the dance,” he said won- 
deringly, “when I told you about Mr. Nilson’s 
oflfer. Sporty is — immense!” 

“You — you must have said it to some one 


HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 375 


else,” Miss Rose had a glimmer of light now; 
“those pilgrim robes were very — very tragic- 
ally misleading. But I’m glad if any good 
thing has come to you. I’m sure whatever 
decision you’ve come to — is a wise one.” 

“Who was it — then?” Jim Nichols looked 
around on the company with calculating eye. 

“Nancy Mowbray?” Miss Rose suggested. 
“Nancy seems to have caught a good many 
confidences that did not belong to her.” 

“It wasn’t Nancy.” 

“Could it have been Sally Temple? The 
girl is a witch at mimicry.” 

Jago shook his head. 

“Sally is a limb and no mistake,” he said 
with a laugh, “but that wasn’t Sally.” 

Then he looked at Margaret and he knew. 
For Margaret at that very moment was speak- 
ing to Goo in tones that might easily have 
been mistaken for Miss Rose’s. 

“Well, anyway. Miss Rose, I’d like to tell 
you all about it.” 

“And I’d love to hear.” 

So the story was repeated. 

“It’s only a business proposition,” Jago 
ended joyfully. 


376 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Mr. Nilson is a big man. He insists my 
plugging along with Sporty is worth all I’m 
getting; however, he is willing the amount of 
my expenses for the next four years shall con- 
stitute a fund — to be passed on.” 

“It’s a great idea,” Miss Rose’s eyes were 
shining; “I wish — ” 

“What, Miss Rose?” 

“That some such thing could be done for a 
dear girl of whom I know. Somehow those 
things come more naturally to a boy — I won- 
der why?” 

Jago was very quiet, but his earnest eyes 
were fixed upon Margaret’s face. 

“Could she wait until — well, perhaps — I’ll 
be through in two years. I’ll do my best.” 

“I fear not, Jim. It’s now or never. But 
she’s such splendid material, if only some one 
were wise or kind enough to understand — 
some one with imagination and money.” 

And that night when all was still in the 
wigwams, Margaret crept from her own little 
white bed to Miss Rose’s and knelt down be- 
side it. 

“Hiatini,” she whispered so softly that Miss 
Rose thought it was part of her dream; “Hia- 
tini, I’ve got to tell you 1” 


HOW THEY LANDED MARGARET 377 


Then Miss Rose awoke and sat up. 

“I’m — going — to — college !” 

And now Miss Rose thought that Margaret 
was dreaming. 

“Dear child!” she said, “wake up!” 

“Oh! I’m quite, quite awake. I haven’t 
been able to sleep at all — the joy has flooded 
me with wonder and I cannot waste time in 
sleeping.” 

“What do you mean, Margaret?” 

“It’s come true! All the longing and de- 
sire — ^my heart’s desire. It just came to me 
— from heaven.” 

“Come, Margaret, dear, speak down to me, 
child.” 

“To think I can never even tell you, dear 
Miss Rose. You’ll only have to go on guess- 
ing and guessing, but no matter how magnifi- 
cent your guesses are, they will not be half as 
glorious as the real thing. But this I can tell 
you — if you hadn’t planned this summer it 
seems to me the world would have come to an 
end. College, Miss Rose! And by and by 
a career with good things for mother and the 
children. It seems as if everything had been 
turned to shining gold.” 


378 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Now, Margaret, get to bed. You are 
shaking with cold.” 

“No — only gladness, dear!” 

“You are talking in your dreams, Meggie.” 

“Yes — in my dream!” 

“Trot back, little girl.” 

So Margaret pattered back and was soon 
asleep ; but Miss Rose lay upon her pillow and 
pondered. 

“Not Sylvia’s Grandfather,” she thought; 
“nor Judge Conly. Who can it be who has 
opened the gate for the most precious little 
girl?” 

But never once did Miss Rose guess the real 
ones who had lovingly, fumblingly and suc- 
cessfully touched the latch that was to set free 
the soul of Margaret and give it wings with 
' which to reach its desire. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 

In another week Camp Brave Pine was to 
be broken up; the wigwams deserted, the last 
fire extinguished — for the summer! “For the 
summer!” became a term to conjure with. 
When young eyes grew sad and tender mouths 
pathetic at the thought of separation some 
cheery voice would cry “for this summer!” and 
smiles returned. Nevertheless there was not 
one who did not sit apart at times and shed 
tears of regret as she remembered the sweet 
weeks together and the blessed companionship 
that meant so much, would always mean so 
much in the years on ahead. 

“We must think up one great and splendid 
jollification,” Nancy said to Jane. “Some- 
thing that will outdo anything we have yet 
done. A most magnificent ceremonial that 
will include every one. Of course we can be- 
gin with only our members, but a little later 

3T9 


380 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


have every one else come up to the hill for a 
good time. Let us have it two nights before 
we go away — that will give us a day and night 
to rest up before our trip home.” 

J ane nodded her head gayly. 

“I’m rather glad I’m going back with you 
for a few weeks,” she said. “Shopping, pack- 
ing and hugging you all around will fill the 
time and in November — ” Jane clasped her 
hands ecstatically — “in November the house 
on the hill will be ready and mother and I 
will have a country winter from start to finish. 
Nan, mother has gained fifteen pounds in re- 
lief and anticipation, she says. Isn’t it sub- 
lime?” 

The two were sitting in the arbor 
wrapped up in thick white sweaters for the 
September day at full noon was tingling and 
crisp. 

“I tell you, Janey, New York City will 
suffer a great loss when you leave it!” Nan 
tried to joke, but her serious eyes belied her. 
“All the leading journals should have head- 
line notices of the event. 

“ ‘Departure of Miss Jane Trevor and her 
Mother. Miss Trevor, late private secretary 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


S81 


of Judge Conly, has taken her parent and 
gone to the White Mountains to make her per- 
manent home. We mourn our loss! May 
our loss be their gain. R. I. P.’ and all the 
other comforting things when every one knows 
there will be no comfort. Think of those dear 
lunches we had together, Jane. When we 
looked first down the list price and picked out 
the cheapest and then solemnly swore that was 
the thing we were perishing for !” 

Jane laughed. 

“And the suppers — the Sunday night sup- 
pers, when the dear hungry boys dropped in 
and we made toast and het things up, as Mercy 
would say, on the gas range. I shall miss it 
all horribly. Nan. I own up to that but in- 
stead — ” and here Jane’s eyes looked lovingly 
into Nan’s — “Mother and I will have each 
other — without fear! and then the beauty and 
the knowledge that we can make a home, a 
truly home, upstairs-and-downstairs home 
with wood fires instead of asbestos rugs set 
endwise against the wall! And we’ll call so 
loud to you all, you dear things, that I can 
see the railroads issuing reduced rates for 
separated chums.” 


382 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Jane, you are developing a keen and ready 
wit.” 

“Nan!” Jane turned about practically: 
“what has become of Mr. Fleming?” 

“Sh!” said Nan looking suddenly around; 
“Miss Rose is up in her room in that everlast- 
ing rocker of hers — the one that was Miss 
Patsy Fay’s. Miss Rose says she feels as if 
her Aunt Patsy’s arms and love were about her 
when she sits in that chair. She’s going to 
take it back to the city with her — for comfort, 
she says.” 

“Why does Miss Rose seem to need so much 
comfort just now?” Jane went on. “I’ve had 
my eye on her. Do you think we’ve been too 
much for her? She’s a bit — tired acting!” 

And then Nancy edged nearer while keep- 
ing her eye on the upper window over the porch 
behind which, swaying gently, sat Miss Rose 
in her Aunt Patsy’s old rocking chair. 

“It’s — it’s Mr. Fleming!” whispered Nancy 
into the astonished ear of Jane Trevor. “Mr. 
Fleming and — a great misunderstanding!” 

“Heavens!” Jane was properly impressed. 
Then Nancy rushed on easing her mind by 
burdening Jane’s. 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


383 


“I found it out; I was plunged into the 
secret the night of the pilgrim dance ; he 
thought I was Miss Rose. I! Just fancy 
such stupidity. And he — well, he didn’t say 
much, hut he meant much and — his tones! Oh, 
Janey — those thrilling tones! Of course I 
had to flounder on after that. I told him to 
stop talking. I scared him off and made my- 
self known and he said he would never hate 
me, which, under the circumstances, I think 
was quite broad-minded of him. Neverthe- 
less, I felt myself the master of their fates — it 
seemed up to me no matter whether I approved 
or not. I’d prefer kindergartens and us girls 
myself — but there’s no accounting for tastes. 
Well, I took Miss Rose first and nearly re- 
duced her to pulp.” 

“Oh! Nan! the poor dear thing! And you 
are so — so overwhelming when you let your- 
self go!” 

Jane clasped her hands tragically. 

“Oh! I was tact itself,” Nancy spoke up 
on the defensive. “I took her in my arms and 
it was all quite touching, but there was an aw- 
ful doubt in my mind as to whether she was 
laughing or crying most. Finally I decided 


384 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


she was laughing most. Then I felt it was my 
plain, righteous duty to let Mr. Fleming know. 
No one else would or could, so I wrote him a 
brief, business-like note by the moonlight in 
my wigwam one night more than a week ago 
— and that seems to be the end of the matter. 
I’ve heard of people in love, Jane Trevor, 
but the real thing is — ^is — disgustingly . stu- 
pid!” 

“Oh, oh. Nan!” That was all Jane could 
say, hut she said it over and over again until 
it got on Nancy’s nerves. 

“Don’t be a prig, Jane Trevor, or a parrot. 
What do you think is the matter?” 

“Oh, oh. Nan! How could the poor man 
come up here and face Miss Rose with your 
terrible meddling the only interpretation?” 

“My terrible meddling! WeU, I like that, 
Jane Trevor! I consider that I handled the 
whole affair with delicacy and courage — for 
one of my years and inexperience.” 

“Oh, oh. Nan ! Why, it will take some great 
and overpowering thing to right this. Fire, 
flood or tragic accident. Dear old Nan! 
You are a blessed joke but a dismal failure as 
a Fairy God-mother.” 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


385 


“Umph!” muttered Nancy and drew her- 
self up proudly. “We’ll change the subject, 
Miss Trevor.” 

“Nan!” 

“We’ll speak now of the arrangements for 
our big flare-out. You know that Glory Hole 
under the attic stairs?” 

“Yes;” Jane replied timidly; “where we 
keep our odds and ends.” 

“Well, what do you think I found there the 
other day? It was in a box under a pile of 
old newspapers and magazines. A dress and 
a queer little bonnet and silk cape. Awfully 
cute and odd and they fit me! The night of 
the entertainment I’m going to wear them in- 
stead of my ceremonial dress. You must help 
me. Just when the fire is ready to light — I’ll 
walk in. Don’t you remember how, when we 
first came up here, we used to say the people 
out of whose dresses the patch work quilts were 
made, might take to walking about? Well! 
one of them will walk. The dress I found is 
like that blue-green patch in Miss Rose’s quilt. 
The changeable silk, you know, that Margaret 
loves.” 

“It will be great sport;” Jane entered in- 


S86 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


to the idea joyously. “I wonder how that box 
ever escaped us — we’ve all gone through the 
Glory Hole like fine tooth combs.” 

“You probably thought it an empty box.” 

“Well, anyway, it will be fun.” 

“And after we’ve had our fun,” Nancy con- 
tinued, “we’ll all get into our pilgrim togs and 
have the thing I wrote. Come, we’ll tell Miss 
Rose now for she must learn her part. We’ll 
invite everybody up to that end of the evening 
and have refreshments. Each one of us will 
make something to show off how we’ve im- 
proved under Mrs. Allen. And — oh! Janey, 
we’ll invite Mr. Fleming and see what will 
happen.” 

So off they ran to confide in Miss Rose. 

But Fate took a hand in the game and set 
the big celebration a day ahead. The invita- 
tions were out for a “Ceremonial” at seven, 
sharp, September 20th. These invitations 
were by word of mouth and only to the Camp 
Fire girls. Other invitations — on picture 
postals — were issued to the others. The Town 
Club, which now proudly boasted ten paid 
members! Silas and Mercy, the Widow 
Thorne and Mr. Fleming. The postals had 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


387 


been sent to the girls by Judge Conly. They 
were Camp Fire postals and Margaret had 
colored them beautifully so they were very 
realistic and charming. The hoys of the 
Round Table, too, had been honored and were 
making all sorts of preparations to add their 
share to the hilarity of the occasion. 

Then on the 19th the unexpected occurred. 

They were going to have a rehearsal in the 
living room of Camp Brave Pine. A cheerful 
fire sparkled and snapped on the hearth and 
Hiatini, in her pilgrim robe, sat on a little 
raised platform that Silas had evolved from a 
cracker box, and several of the other pilgrims 
were grouped about repeating their lines. 

“Where’s Help and Wap?” asked the Owl 
of the Scribbler from her gray cowl. 

The Owl counted the long-robed figures 
three times to make sure and then shook her 
head dolefully. The Owl was low in her 
spirits for, as the time drew near for the clos- 
ing of the camp, life seemed drear and taste- 
less. Not even the promised visit during the 
winter, for her and the Scribbler, had power 
to lift the Owl’s gloom. 

“It’s many an empty day between their go- 


388 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


ing and that visit!” mourned she. “Besides, 
things might happen.” 

“Having Singing Cricket up to the farm on 
the ledge, will help,” the Scribbler had com- 
forted, and that was comfort indeed. 

“Hiatini, Help and Wap are missing,” 
called the Owl and just at that moment a 
little flying pilgrim dashed into the room with 
a face as white as the frost that had lain that 
morning on the dear summer grass. 

“Miss Rose!” gasped the pilgrim, running 
toward the platform with outstretched hands, 
“one of those old patch-work ghosts is upstairs. 
I saw her walk out of the Glory Hole with a 
candle!” 

A solid mass of gray pilgrims was around 
the speaker at this and Miss Rose came down 
from her throne and took the trembling Wap 
in her arms. 

“Of course this is all nonsense, my dear little 
girl,” she said, patting the small clinging 
hands. 

“No, Miss Rose, it is really and truly as I 
say. She had a greeny-bluey dress of silk and a 
little black cape and a tiny bonnet and she had 
a — candle ! She looked at me and — then went 
back into the Glory Hole.” 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


389 


A palpitating stillness filled the room. 
Joy’s description of the patch- work ghost was 
so pathetically like Miss Rose’s memory of her 
dear, old Aunt Patsy that for a moment a 
creeping fear held her dumb. 

“Oh!” groaned the Scribbler and at that 
every one jumped and cried “ooh!” in terrified 
tones. 

“This will never do!” said Miss Rose stern- 

h- 

“Let us go upstairs — where’s Nancy?” 

And at that they all looked blankly at each 
other. 

“Where’s Nancy?” 

The color came back into Joy’s face and the 
Owl snickered normally and wholesomely. 
And just at that instant in walked the patch- 
work ghost in her quaint make-up, her face 
filled with a greater horror than Joy’s had 
known! She sank down upon the nearest 
chair and in a hollow, awesome tone, said, “I’ve 
set the house a-fire! Candle! Glory Hole!” 

With that Nancy-the-patch- work-ghost 
tumbled on to the floor and lay quite, quite 
still! 

To say that excitement prevailed would be 


390 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


to speak far too mildly. The Owl and the 
Scribbler gave a whoop, that, for a moment, 
chilled the blood of every one. 

“Attend to Nancy!” commanded Miss Rose 
and ran for the stairs. Jane Trevor took 
charge of the prostrate ghost and gave “first 
aid” in the practical way the Camp Fire in- 
struction had made possible. In five minutes 
Nancy was on her feet and taking a hand in 
the work and hurry. 

The candle had indeed ignited some papers 
and clothing in the Glory Hole closet and a 
greedy, mischievous tongue of flame had eaten 
its way through the roof by the time Nancy 
had regained her senses. Miss Rose knew the 
little gray house was well built and seasoned, 
but she also knew that unless help came soon, 
even the sturdy frame would succumb. She 
worked and the girls worked and the Owl was 
dispatched to arouse the Corners. 

Meanwhile the Knights on their small porch 
were having what Sporty called a “Chin-chin.” 

Jago was holding forth on the glorious fu- 
ture and the joys of the passing summer. 
Goo was breaking in now and then, when he 
saw an opening, with a plan he had for “writ- 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


891 


ing the summer up,” having it published in 
leaflet form and getting it out for Christmas 
gifts — “all hands getting one.” 

Woe was more cheerful than usual for that 
day he had won his parents’ consent to travel 
abroad for a year before he settled down to 
“grind through the ‘Varsity.’ ” 

Woe always referred to Cornell as if it were 
the only Hall of Learning in existence. 

Sporty, full length on the floor of the porch, 
had Danny across his breast “for,” as he said, 
“warmth and comfort.” 

Suddenly, Danny sprang up, thereby near- 
ly crushing the life out of his master, and gave 
an alarming yelp. 

“Shut up!” commanded Goo cheerfully; “if 
you want to bay at the moon, go to the rear.” 

But Danny preferred his present position 
and, raising his head again, emitted a terrify- 
ing howl. 

“What did the brute have for supper?” Woe 
asked getting upon his feet and frowning. 

“Leavings,” Jago answered. 

“Goo was cook. That accounts,” Woe 
patted Danny’s uplifted head; “poor doggie, 
suffering creature — I feel for you!” 


392 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


Again Danny howled and ran toward the 
road. 

“What ails him?” And now Sporty arose 
and followed his faithful Danny. “Fellows !” 
he shouted from the gateway, “the Camp’s on 
fire! It’s always fire of some sort up there!” 

Sure enough, from that viewpoint the 
bright red flames could be plainly seen. 

“Come !” That was all, but four big fellows 
and one excited dog were on the way to Camp 
Brave Pine! Never had they gone so quickly 
as they went then. Sometimes it was Jago 
ahead, sometimes another, but Danny was al- 
ways leading the first man! 

The pilgrims were dancing about the little 
house like veritable Indians. They were all 
doing what they could to save furniture and 
clothing. White, but quiet. Miss Rose issued 
her commands and directed her girls. 

“It’s all my fault!” wailed Nancy as the 
Knights rushed upon the seene; “I did it! I 
did it!” 

“Well, I wouldn’t mention it,” confided 
Sporty seeking to steady the excited girl, “it’s 
a good fire all right, but it’s not to your credit.” 

“Here!” called Jago from the side of the 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


393 


house, “if we ean haul this end of the roof off 
we may save the rest.” 

No one had thought of that, but now every 
one was ready to help. 

Uncle Silas was on hand with ropes and a 
hastily constructed tackle and as the roof over 
the Glory Hole closet was grappled, the fire 
seemed to brighten and spread. The village 
people, roused by Mary, were coming on the 
scene and every one offering advice and solace 
at once. 

Suddenly Miss Rose whispered to Margaret, 
“I am going in to get — Aunt Patsy’s rocker! 
It is perfectly safe yet. I must have the chair. 
Stand here, Margaret, and wait for me.” 

“No! no. Miss Rose! Please!” 

“Meggie — it is perfectly safe.” 

Then Margaret, panic-stricken and helpless, 
stood alone. Oh! how they shouted and 
screamed — all the people ! How the dogs, led 
by Danny, backed and darted underfoot. 
Mrs. Thorne was crying, Mercy was scolding 
and poor Margaret stood alone and waited 
through minutes that seemed like hours. 

“The smoke! the smoke!” called Goo pran- 
cing on the porch with a pail of water; “the 
house is filled with smoke.” 


394 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


“Where’s Miss Rose?” It was Nancy 
screaming in Margaret’s ear. “Where is 
she?” 

Then another voice broke in. A deep, awed 
voice, “Where is she?” 

Margaret turned and faced Mr. Fleming. 

“She’s gone upstairs for the — old rocker!” 
she answered like one in a dream. 

“The house is full of smoke!” Again Goo 
poured a pail of water vaguely into the hall- 
way. But Mr. Fleming gave a leap right into 
the smoke! With bowed head they saw him 
go up the stairway, two steps at a time. 
Nancy’s face was strained and haggard. She, 
Goo and Margaret watched the open door ! 

“It’s conquered! the fires out!” 

Was that a dream? 

“Look out! there comes the last piece of 
roof! Now, fellows, pour on water; pour on 
water! The house is all right unless a new 
start springs up.” 

“See! see!” Every one in front of the house 
looked up. Announced by a flying rocker that 
was hurled from an upper window, two figures 
came out upon the roof of the little porch. 

“Miss Rose! Mr. Fleming!” 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


895 


The minister, grim and smoke-stained, held 
Miss Rose by the hand. Her face was white 
and terrified and she followed like a little child. 

Jane rushed to Nancy and flung her arms 
around her : 

“It had to be — fire!” she whispered tragic- 
ally. 

“And I reckon — ” Nancy returned dramat- 
ically — “that the kindergarten has got to take 
the back seat!” 

At nine o’clock the danger was past. Only 
part of the roof, and some damage by smoke 
inside, was the result, except the gutting of the 
Glory Hole! 

Nancy, still in her quaint dress and bonnet 
on the side of her head, looked upon the scene 
with grateful eyes. 

“A few days’ job!” Uncle Silas said. “The 
house needed a new roof anyway. These 
young ’uns have about raised it.” 

“And Lands’ knows!” Mercy added, “a 
little more elbow grease at Fall cleaning will 
sweeten up everything and take off stains. 
I was allowing to Silas yesterday that it would 
take about a week after you all went, to set 
things in order. As far as I can see there 


396 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


ain’t no great damage done. We’ve all had 
another performance, that’s about it!” 

“We can make things safe for to-night,” 
the widow Thorne announced, “and then 
divide you folks up and take you in.” 

In the hurry of preparation Miss Rose came 
close to Nancy. 

“It’s — the parsonage by and by, dear,” she 
whispered. And nonsensical Nancy leaned on 
the brave little shoulder and wept as if her 
heart would break. 

“I reckon the pine and me will watch the 
rest of the night through,” announced Uncle 
Silas. “We’ll camp out along with you. 
Uncle,” Sporty spoke up. And the others 
cheered him to the echo. 

Then the little procession wended its way 
down the hill and across the meadow. The 
moon came out from behind a bank of clouds 
and the wind sprang up too late to do any 
damage. In the division Sylvia found her- 
self allotted to Sally for the night’s enter- 
tainment and Nancy went with Mary Temple. 
Miss Rose bided with Mercy and in a sudden 
rush of hospitality the widow Thorne took 
Joy, Jane and Margaret. 


THE PATCHWORK GHOST 


397 


After the excitement was over Sylvia and 
Sally had a sacred conference. 

“I’m going to show you my notebook!” 
Sally said, bringing the precious thing to Syl- 
via’s bedside. “See I I meant to use you all in 
a novel some day. ’Tain’t only city folks that 
can find characters in the country.” 

Sylvia had an awakening that night. By the 
light of the kerosene lamp when Pa and Ma 
Temple thought they were asleep, Sylvia read 
how she and her friends had appeared to the 
nimble-witted Sally. It was all very comical 
and diverting, but Sylvia looked humble and 
grim. 

“What are you going to do with it?” she 
asked. 

“This,” Sally replied, tiptoeing to the little 
stove across the room and putting the book in- 
side. “And this!” she struck a match — and 
“this!” There was a “whoof!” as the draught 
fanned the flame. 

“Oh, you brave thing,” Sylvia cried. 

“And now the fire has wiped out everything 
mean.” Sally came back to the bedside. 

“This summer will always seem like a big, 
purifying thing that burned up all the mean- 


398 


CAMP BRAVE PINE 


ness and hate and — and showed the way to — 
splendid doings!” 

“You — do say such lovely things, Sally.” 

“I’m going to — ^to try and live them,” Sally 
returned. “And now good-night, Sylvia. I 
don’t see how I could ever have felt as I once 
did about you.” 

“Nor I, about you, Sally. But then I’m a 
different girl.” 

“And so am I.” 

And back in Mercy’s small, trim guest cham- 
ber Miss Rose knelt before the little window 
looking westward. 

“It still stands,” she whispered, “under the 
Brave Pine. And if my poor, distracting 
Nancy had not lighted the most precious fire 
I might never have known my soul’s desire. 
Oh! my girls! my girls! We are close to each 
other and always will be and Camp Brave 
Pine will welcome us all for many and many a 
summer — God willing. We none of us — not 
one of us — will ever stand alone again!” 


BOOKS BY HARRIET T. COMSTOCK 


MEG AND THE OTHERS 

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Illustrated. 12mo. 75 cents postpaid 


A LITTLE DUSKY HERO 

AN INTERESTING STORY FOR YOUNG READERS, 
ABOUT THE WAR WITH SPAIN 

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Frontispiece. 8vo. 60 cents postpaid 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 


THE “DOROTHY BROOKE” BOOKS 

By FRANCES CAMPBELL SPARHAWK 


DOROTHY BROOKE’S SCHOOL DAYS 

“Much of the charm that has made Miss Alcott’s stories dear 
to the hearts of two or three generations of girls is in a beautiful 
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equally glad to get hold of ‘Dorothy Brooke’s School Days.’ 
. . . The story is perhaps the best girls’ story in a decade.” 

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DOROTHY BROOKE’S VACATION 

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volumes in this widely known series. 


Each volume, cloth, 8vo, $1.50 
Illustrations by Frank T. Merrill 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 


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